Just Like Glass
by Recall the Love
Summary: You see through me, like I'm not there. (COMPLETE. Major PP2 spoilers.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Did I hear someone say they wanted jealous Chloe? ;)**

Note: If you have any comments on me using single quotation marks, please Google British practice of single versus double quotation marks before doing so.

* * *

'You are… physically flawless.'

For a moment, you're pretty sure you blacked out and started hallucinating. All you can do is gape at Beca, trying to ascertain the real meaning behind what she just said. Surely Beca was trying to psyche them out, or something, because there's no way Beca would seriously tell some woman she just met that she was "physically flawless". Not unless it was some odd attempt at getting under their skin by flirting – unconventional, not at all like Beca and probably better left to Stacie or Cynthia Rose – but even that seems more likely than Beca losing her mind over _Kommissar,_ of all people.

Except it's not. Beca seems as stunned by her words as you feel, and you can already see her cheeks starting to heat up. You stare at her; you _know_ she can see you doing it, but suddenly she won't meet your gaze, or even the gaze of the German robot standing in front of her.

(Who is not even that attractive. Seriously, Beca? You picked _her_ for your sexual awakening?).

You spew some bullshit trash talk but your mind is definitely not on Das Sound Machine, or even the exceptional performance they just put on. You're not even thinking about how you're going to beat them, although that's at the back of your mind and making your stomach churn whenever you allow it more than a second of thinking time.

All you can think is, what the _hell_ just happened?

* * *

Beca, naturally, gets a lot of teasing about it on the bus home. With good reason: Beca isn't exactly the calm and collected one of the group (that accolade goes to Lilly, although perhaps too far in the other direction) but she's also not the most likely to lose her head when she gets frazzled. Especially not over someone else's attractiveness. Even less so if that someone is female.

Especially over someone who is _not_ you, is something you are definitely not thinking, while you try in vain to block out the sounds of the other girls gossiping about the subject. They can't resist themselves, and maybe if you weren't so damn confused about the whole thing you would join in just for the look on Beca's face. Oddly, however, Beca isn't getting as embarrassed about the whole thing like she normally would. Far from shrinking back in her hood and grumpily fending off the teasing, as you would have expected, Beca seems to be taking it all in her stride. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you might even think she seemed oddly proud of the whole thing.

It's a good thing you do know better, because the Beca Mitchell you know is straight. Completely. You should know; you probably know more about Beca's sexuality than she does. Could write a paper on it, even; if you were taking a Beca's-Inner-Feelings class instead of Russian literature, maybe then you'd actually graduate. Beca _doesn't like women_. There's no point even getting a little bit upset about it: everyone has at least one girl crush in their life, right?

Even so, you don't like the way Ashley and Jessica are looking at you sympathetically throughout the whole conversation like they know something you don't. Or the way Lilly leans towards you and whispers, 'I can take her out, if you want.' You're already aware that everyone knows how you feel _–_ you can admit you're not exactly subtle, about anything at all –but it's still it's like an unspoken secret in front of Beca. Despite having the observation skills of a thumbtack, she can be surprisingly sharp when it comes to you.

Everyone thinks you're jealous. And you're not.

(Except you are, insanely so. You know it's dumb. You can't help it.)

'I didn't think she was _that_ pretty,' falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, sounding less coolly dismissive of the topic and more like a petulant child who has lost her toy. Unfortunately, the other Bellas pick up on this easily and a few smirks start appearing. At least they hide them in their fists or duck their heads down so Beca won't see.

'Dude!' exclaims Beca. There are two very uncharacteristic spots of red in her cheeks as she stares at you, eyes wide. 'Not that pretty? Are you blind? She was like a Greek fucking… _goddess_ , or something.'

'It'd be a German goddess, really,' Amy notes. 'Do they even have goddesses over there?'

'Claudia Schiffer,' Cynthia Rose, this time, who as usual can't resist a conversation about hot women.

'I meant the religious kind, but uh – whatever floats your boat, CR...'

'DSM lady could float _my_ boat,' Beca says, sniggering at her own innuendo, which turns into a full on laugh when Cynthia Rose whoops and high fives Beca.

'I'll get you over to the dark side yet, Beca.'

'If the dark side has her there, count me in.'

'What about Jesse?' Stacie asks, and you can't help but follow this part of the conversation because yes, exactly - what about Jesse?

'He can come too,' says Beca, grinning, and that's it. You have had enough.

'God, can we drop this already?' You get surprised looks from the other girls from the amount of anger in your voice, which you couldn't quite keep down. Seems you're having a lot of trouble with that lately.

'Don't worry Red, I'm sure Beca thinks you're hot too,' says Amy, winking. She gets a sharp elbow in the side from Beca for her comment, and those spots of red are starting to look like massive circles by now.

'It's not that,' you say, blushing too - even though it _is_. 'In case you guys haven't noticed, DSM weren't just physically amazing – although I disagree about that part - they were _aca_ -amazing. And we need to figure out how the hell we're going to beat them. All of us,' you add, and if your gaze wanders to Beca at all it was totally accidental. 'So that means no distractions. How are we going to do that if you're all too busy drooling over the competition?'

The silence that follows is stunned, and you can't think why. In your mind, you were perfectly justified in say that because _really_? Flirting with the competition? If Aubrey were here, she would have a heart attack.

Still, you can't help but wonder if she went a little too far. Especially when Beca's smile slips away, and she murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like 'Wow, _harsh_ ,' under her breath.

The rest of the ride is awkward and quiet, after that, and no more jokes are made. Instead there's hastily stifled coughs and the others staring at the two of you when they think you can't see. Emily in particular seems like she might cry at any moment, brazenly watching the two of you with an air of desperation throughout the whole trip home.

You're probably crushing her dreams of a Bella sisterhood right now, but you can't bring yourself to care. It seems to you like that started fizzling about the time you entered your seventh year of this crap.

* * *

You're a ball of stress by the time you all arrive home, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and never come out. However, you know you're going to need all the time you can get to work out how you're going to beat Das Sound Machine at the Worlds. You need to start planning now.

'Alright Bellas, everyone get your laptops and iPods, we have a long night ahead of us - whoa, where are _you_ going?' you ask sharply, as Beca makes a break for the staircase. She turns around, a guilty expression on her face. It's as though she thought no one would notice if she left quickly enough.

'Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I've just got stuff to do,' she says. She does seem tired, and you nearly soften and let her go. Until you remember the Worlds, and how sick you felt while you watched DSM perform, and _no_ , Beca is not allowed another free pass just because you can't resist her hangdog expression. Not this time.

'What stuff?' you demand, one hand on your hip. 'Can't you wait? We're having a Bellas meeting.'

'Right, of _course_ we are.' She tips her head back and groans. 'Sorry, remind me what this unnecessary meeting is about again?'

'How we can kick Das Sound Machine's asses, duh.'

'Can we leave it until tomorrow?'

You can feel yourself losing your temper with Beca. It's not something that happens very often, but you're grumpy and worried and Beca is an easy target right now. 'Why?' you snap. 'Are you saying you have something to do which is more important than this? Than us?'

'Ugh, oh my God Chloe - it's not like that. Listen, can you just -' she stops suddenly, and makes a noise of frustration. You're probably better off not knowing what she might have been about to say, yet you find yourself wanting to know the end of that sentence. It feels like you've been waiting for it for a while.

'Can I just _what_ , Beca?'

She meets your glare full on. Her jaw shifts, words forming at her lips. You think she might actually man up and say what she's obviously been holding back from you for a while, and feel your shoulders start tensing in wait of it.

But once again, Beca just shuts down. 'Nothing,' she says on an exhale, and turns to face the stairs again. She speaks with her back to all of you. 'Look, I'm co-captain too, alright? I really don't want to have a meeting right now. And since _I_ handle most of the arrangements, you're probably out of luck.'

It's a low blow, and Beca knows it: that's why she won't look you in the face, and why you don't even dignify it with a response. You just let her go, watch and seethe as she stomps up the stairs on her own. You clench your jaw so tight it feels like your teeth might break, because she's just so _maddening_ …And yet there's still some part of you that wants to run right after Beca, wrap your arms around her and just beg for things to go back to how they were.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. It's Amy. 'You want me to go talk to her?' she asks, smiling sadly.

'No…' You put your fingers to your temples and rub them as you sigh. 'Just leave her, she's obviously in a mood.' Like so often these days. Not that you can talk.

'Man, it sucks when you guys argue,' says Cynthia Rose mournfully. 'It's like watching my folks fight.'

'That'd be one messed up family if Chloe and Beca were your parents. I mean, if anyone would be their lovechild, it's Legacy over there,' says Amy, nodding at Emily. The girl looks delighted at the very idea.

It's an obvious attempt to make you smile, and you appreciate the attempt, but talking about you and Beca having a "lovechild" hits just a little too close to home right now. You change the subject. 'Do you guys actually want a meeting right now?' The other Bellas exchange nervous looks with each other, and it's plain from the long extended silence that the answer is "no". Your shoulders slump. 'Right, okay.'

'Nothing personal, C. We're not siding with Beca,' Cynthia Rose tells you quickly. 'It's been a long day, is all. '

'Cynthia Rose is right, we're all seriously tired and unmotivated right now. We'll be able to plan much better in the morning if we're well rested.' Emily, bless her, is as ever the voice of cheerful optimism. Normally you'd find it sweet, or at the very least mildly endearing but right now you just want to slap that hopeful smile off her face. When did you get to the point where assaulting the freshmen started sounding like a good idea? Maybe you spent too much time with Aubrey during her captaincy.

'And you probably shouldn't worry about Beca,' Emily goes on, very unhelpfully. 'I think she's just upset because of what you said on the bus.'

'She deserved it,' you reply defensively, crossing your arms.

'Ehhh…' says Amy, closing one eye and shaking one hand.

'I dunno, Chloe,' says Cynthia Rose. 'I mean I'm all about the team and all, but Beca was just messing about. Except you kinda went all "green eyed monster" on her ass. It was pretty obvious you were jealous.'

You can't help but blush. 'Oh my God. No - look, I honestly don't care,' you say, knowing even as you say it that it sounds feeble, even without the others averting their eyes, and Amy muttering something under her breath about a river in Egypt. You can't help but gnaw on the pad of your thumb a little nervously, however, thinking back to how Beca seemed completely bowled over by Kommissar. Maybe there's something you're missing, even if you do consider yourself a connoisseur of women. You ask, '… Do you really think she was that hot?'

Amy pats you again, which seems to be her main method of comfort. You're half expecting her to feed you a dog biscuit at any moment. 'Hey, if it helps, I think Beca's probably just got a German fetish,' she tells you seriously. 'I mean I'm sure I've heard her at night listening to Kraftwerk, and "working her craft" if you catch my drift.' She winks.

You giggle at Amy's typically weird sense of humour, as do some of the other girls. 'Thanks, Amy. Really needed that image.'

'Just doin' my duty, Red.' She looks around at the others. 'So… Emergency aca-party, anyone, to drink away our sorrows? If we're free to go, I mean,' she adds hastily. 'I'm down for rubbing salt in our wounds if everyone else is.'

'No, it's fine…' you say. 'We'll meet in the morning. I think I'm going to stay here though, you guys can go.' A few of the Bellas start wandering away immediately, but you see that Stacie is biting her lip, regarding you with an inscrutable expression. You arch an eyebrow, and she puts up her hand hesitantly.

'What, Stacie?'

'Well,' she says, sounding unsure, 'it's just a thought, but have you ever thought that maybe you should just _tell_ her -'

'Nope,' you interrupt her, popping the "p" with how aggressively blunt your response is. You can feel your blush creeping all the way down your neck. 'Any other questions? No? Okay, I think I'm going to head to bed. Let's meet bright and early tomorrow to discuss our plan, yeah?'

You quickly leave the room before they can ask you anything else, making a run for the stairs. Hardly dignified, but if you stay any longer you just know they'll stay on the subject. Then they'll probably get you drunk and probably talk you into crying about your feelings for Beca and then egging you on to calling her up and serenading her at 2am. It's happened before.

You had been intending just to go to bed and scream into a few pillows, maybe call Aubrey – but on your way to your room, you pass Beca's. And you can't help but pause. Some strange force takes over your legs and leads you to the bottom of the staircase leading up to her room – luckily it doesn't have enough power to get you to actually go up it, but instead you end up hovering creepily on the landing.

You can faintly hear the sound of Beca pacing up and down upstairs, which she only does when she's extremely stressed. Something's going on with Beca and you have no idea what that is. Not long ago you wouldn't even need to wonder because you were so clued up on everything that happened in Beca's life, whether she wanted it or not.

Things are changing so fast. And all you want to do is run up there and beg for things to slow down, just a little.

Suddenly you hear footsteps on the staircase, too quick for you to reorganise your thoughts and run away; you come face to face with Beca. You wonder for a moment if she somehow sensed you were out here, but she looks as surprised to see you as you are to see her.

'Whoa. Hi.'

'Um, sorry,' you say reflexively, even though you have as much right to stand in the hallway as she does to pace in her room. 'I was just on my way to bed.'

'It's cool. I was just going to…' She gestures vaguely behind you in the direction of the bathroom, and you mutely step aside so she can get by. You think that you ought to go to your room and avoid this whole situation, but you've already been caught; it won't matter if you stay here. So you just wait. It's probably about time for the two of you to talk, anyway.

When Beca emerges again, she doesn't look wholly unsurprised to see you still standing there.

'Huh… You're still here,' Beca notes, but not unpleasantly. 'You listening to me pee? Kinda weird.'

You can't even think of a witty or teasing response to make. A long enough silence follows that Beca frowns, rubbing her shoulder nervously.

'You… want to come to my room? Talk about the set?' she asks kindly, after a moment, and you know it's an olive branch. You nod and follow her upstairs to the room she shares with Amy.

Once inside Beca makes a beeline for her prime mixing position, back against the headboard and Mac on her knees, while you perch on the end of her bed. You wonder how the hell it got to this point that you're _perching_ on her bed instead of curling up at the headboard with her. From the way Beca watches you, she might be thinking the same thing.

She pats the space next to her, raising her eyebrows. You blink. 'Are you sure?'

'What, you're asking now?' she rolls her eyes. 'Just c'mere, Beale.'

Obediently you crawl up to sit by her side, still with an unusually respectful distance between the two of you. Beca pokes you in the side in a way that counts for friendly for her.

'Hey. So, I'm sorry about – well, you know,' she says briskly. You can tell she's nervous about saying it by the way she taps her fingernails on the edge of her Mac, one foot tapping to a beat only she knows in her head. Apologies are like pulling teeth with Beca, but she's become much better with them over time. 'I was being kind of a dick, I think. I was just, you know, my head was all messed up and I wanted some space, but I probably shouldn't have taken it out on you -'

'It's okay, Beca,' you interrupt, grabbing Beca's fingers. 'I'm sorry too.'

She gives you a rather watery smile, and you wonder if she's been worried too.

You ask quietly, 'Do you think we can actually beat them?'

'Sure,' says Beca. When she sees your unimpressed face at this lackluster response, quickly backtracks. 'I mean, yeah, of course we will. It's gonna be hard, but we'll manage. We always do.' When she looks at you, for a moment it feels like when Beca was a freshman and you were trying to salvage what was left of the Bellas for what you thought would be the very last time. You'd sat in this position in Beca's old dorm room at 2am, wracking your brains for songs and the best way to transition between them. It had all felt so hopeless back then, just like it does now. But you pulled through, because of Beca.

You smile back.

Beca leans back into the headboard, settling in and skimming her fingers over the keyboard. 'So,' she says, any ideas?'

* * *

It feels nice to just sit with Beca and talk. Especially about music, which you haven't done one-on-one for a while. It was the thing that brought you together in the first place, but Beca is always so solitary when she is really getting into a mix that it's almost a privilege getting just getting to be near her while she does it.

As time passes you get closer, until you're cuddled up to her side, head tucked just into her shoulder. One leg is tangled haphazardly with hers, and you almost start to forget how the events of earlier sit heavy in your stomach. It's easy when you're joking around with Beca and throwing ideas back and forth.

Occasionally a silence will fall, however, when Beca's looking up a mix she did a few months ago on her Mac or trying to think through the best way to link two songs. And then you remember, and suddenly the sound of Beca's humming under her breath and the warmth of her cheek on the top of your head is unbearable.

You've felt jealous before. How could you not? Beca has been dating someone else for more than half of your friendship. But you got over that. Jesse is too likeable to be jealous of for too long, and besides, he's a guy. And Beca is straight. Totally, completely straight.

Or so you thought.

It's weird. Before now, it felt like you could almost ( _almost_ ) put aside the romantic feelings when just being around Beca was so good, so fulfilling – it was enough to be her friend. That made it easier to stuff your feelings away into a box of "never going to happen" and just pretend that was all it was. It was okay that you pined over her for so long, because Beca was firmly into the "straight girl" category in your head. It was just a fact of life, like the sun rising in the morning: you loved (love) her, and that was all there was to it because you knew nothing would ever come of it.

But now…

Now what?

Maybe you're overreacting. In fact, you're certain that you are. But you can't help the pang you feel thinking of how Beca looked at Kommissar, the same way you're certain you've looked at her before now. It was so out of the blue that it's made you wonder again - dusting off the "never going to happen" box and poring over it all over again for new developments.

The whole thing makes you jealous, definitely.

But it also makes you hope. Even though it shouldn't; even though you thought you squashed all of that out of yourself all over again. Because Beca is graduating and probably heading off to L.A. after this year, and you may never see her again. You don't know. You don't know anything.

'Chlo?' says Beca in your ear, and you realise she's been speaking for a few minutes and you didn't even notice.

'Sorry, what?'

She sits straighter, and you move with her to keep your head on her shoulder. 'I was just asking about the set, but it doesn't matter. Where were you just now? You've been acting so weird today,' she says, frowning at you.

'That's me – I'm weird,' you joke, but it just comes out as bitter.

Beca isn't fooled. 'Something wrong?'

'Nothing major,' is your immediate answer, even though you know Beca won't take it as one. So you go on to say, 'I'm just stressed. About DSM, and college, and…' You sigh. 'Other things.'

'Yeah, you and me both, Beale. You wanna talk about it?'

'I don't know,' you reply. 'Do you?'

'… Not really.'

You know she's keeping something from you. You're not a fool. You've seen and heard Beca on the phone to someone or other, and how she sneaks back in late at night when she thinks no one will notice. Something big is going on inside Beca – maybe lots of things, you have no idea – but she won't tell you. She's right next to you, but you feel like she's miles away.

'A-alright,' you say. As these thoughts have started creeping into your consciousness, you can't help the waver that keeps creeping into your voice, and Beca can't help but notice it.

And she asks. 'Are you _sure_ you're okay?'

You can't lie to her. You've never been able to. The words just die up in your throat.

Beca shuts her laptop and puts it to the side, scooting to face you while you try your best to absorb all your attention in a loose thread in her bed sheet. You know your hands are shaking, and your breathing is getting laboured, but you pray for just a little of that patented Mitchell obliviousness just this once.

Of course, Beca always just seems to _know_ when it comes to you.

'Chlo,' Beca says softly. She places a hand on your knee. 'What's going on?'

You look at her, and she gives you a tight but reassuring smile. Freshman-Beca never would have shown such open care about you, but Senior-Beca touches you easily. You brought that out of her – not Jesse, who still makes Beca scrunch up her nose in distaste when he wraps his arm around her in public or kisses her in front of the Bellas. Your friendship brought Beca out of her shell and helped her move forward with her life. Except now it feels like she's moving on without you; except Beca's been so distant this year, barely interested in the Bellas. It's like you don't even know her anymore. Everything feels like it's falling apart underneath you. You have no idea where your life is going anymore, or even if your best friend is going to be there by your side. Life without Beca feels unbearable, but it already feels like you're starting to live it.

And before you know it, you're suddenly starting to cry – and oh God, you _hate yourself_ for it, because in all your years of friendship, not once has Beca ever known what to do when faced with a crying Chloe. True to form, when Beca sees the tears starting to form in your eyes and the sniffles start coming, her own eyes widen. 'Oh shit, Chlo, please don't cry.'

'I'm sorry,' you sob, trying to hold it back to no avail.

Beca jumps off the bed then and rushes out of the room, and for a moment you wonder if you've finally scared her away. But then she's back with a wad of toilet paper in her hands, which she unceremoniously shoves into your hands with a hasty, 'Here.'

You mumble your thanks, trying to stem the flow of your crying with the toilet paper. Unfortunately the tears are coming too thick and fast for this to do very much but provide something to hide your face in.

'Chlo…' Beca sounds physically pained just watching you. She rocks forward on her knees, wrapping her arms around you in one uncoordinated (but nothing compared to Beca's early hugs) movement. And she whispers into your ear, 'Dude, don't cry, you're going to make _me_ start in a second.'

Oddly, you do want her to cry with you. You want Beca to tell you she's scared of losing you, the way you are for her. You want her to cry about the possibility of a future without you, like you've done many nights. If she cried too, maybe then at least you wouldn't feel so alone and terrified.

You don't know what makes you say it, but you do. It comes out in a messy rush of words that are almost incomprehensible, lost in Beca's hair. You'll wish later that it had, that you could pretend you said something else – _anything_ else – than what petulant garbage fell out of your mouth at that moment. Yet you just felt like you needed to know: it had been in the back of your mind all night although you'd tried to ignore it.

For so long you'd thought Beca as straight. You'd accepted it. Not easily, mind you, but eventually you had. Except now she may well be having some kind of sexual awakening, and although it could just as easily be a phase (even though you _know_ it isn't) it still hurts like hell to think of.

Because it wasn't because of _you._

So you say it.

'Do you think she's prettier than me?'

There's silence, and then Beca stiffens in your arms.

It only takes that simple action to tell you that you've made a horrible, horrible decision.

 _ **TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ha. Um. So response to the first part was certainly... spirited. I'm glad you're all on board and just hope I can deliver! Keep in mind I am an idiot and have exams right now, but only two more :P**

 **JYSK, this'll be following PP2 canon as closely as I can in a kind of "Bechloe behind the scenes" thing, probably a little plot bending here and there, (pun intended). Yes, that includes the tent scene. You'll see :)**

 **Also, going to dedicate this one to my friend Julija whose birthday is on Friday, and who I enjoyed watching freak out over the Bechloe as she watched the film yesterday. Happy birthday! ;)**

* * *

For a long, long moment, neither of you say anything at all; all you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears. You can barely breathe. You don't think Beca is, either.

She hasn't said anything yet, and you're not sure whether the appropriate reaction right now is to run away or just try and laugh it off. The former seems to make more sense and the least likely to destroy everything you know and love, but time is ticking away and you are frozen to the spot.

Gradually, Beca seems to awaken a little bit; she edges away from you a little, just enough to see your face. She squints, licks her lips nervously. Far from being angry or confused, she just seems shell-shocked.

'Did you seriously just ask me…?'

She trails off. Perhaps it sounds as ridiculous in her mind as it does in yours. You can't believe you said that: it sounds so petty and insecure. And maybe that's what you _are_ sometimes under the smiles and optimism, but Beca doesn't need to know that. Her expression right now tells you nothing about how she feels about it – she might be getting ready to spit in your face or kiss you.

Your suspicion is that it will not be the latter. The only way out is damage control, and _fast_.

'I was just kidding,' you blurt out, voice cracking in the middle. You couldn't convince a stranger, let alone someone you've known and spent the better part of every day with for several years now. It's a weak excuse, anyway, given that you were only just sobbing onto her shoulder - yet you honestly can't think of what _else_ you can do.

She blinks, slow and deliberate. Her brow dips into a frown. 'Chloe,' she says.

The wave of panic that rises up in you is sudden and overwhelming – call it self-preservation, because something inside you is screaming that you don't want to be here right now. If you stay you just know your heart is going to get broken; you can already feel it starting to shatter from the unreadable look on Beca's face. That is not the look of someone happy to find out her best friend has feelings for her. You can't bear the thought of those beautiful features pulling back into a hateful snarl towards you, not when you're so used to seeing her smile whenever you make eye contact.

You have to leave. It's not safe here.

You try and stand up. But Beca seizes your wrist immediately in a vice grip, nails scraping your skin in her haste. 'No,' she says, firmly. She almost sounds cold. 'No - _stay_.'

Mutely you follow the order, watching her with wide, scared eyes. She doesn't let go of your wrist, just stares back at you and she makes a few noises like she might be about to speak. You think of how you've teased her in the past for her inability to get her words out in a coherent sentence sometimes when she's stressed – now you hope she never works out how to talk again.

But eventually, of course, she does.

'I was kinda thinking that was just you being your usual weird self,' she says, voice quiet. 'But looking at your face right now, I'm guessing I was wrong.'

'It _was_ ,' you tell her in desperation, trying your best to rearrange your rapidly crumpling features into a smile of some fashion. All you end up with is an ugly, twisted grimace. 'I-It was just a joke. I was just kidding.'

'You're not fooling anybody, Chloe.'

You don't like this. You don't like this at all.

'Beca -'

'You're jealous, aren't you,' she says. It's not teasing or even sarcastic. She's just looking at you, with something akin to sympathy or pity that makes your stomach turn to look at. 'That's why you were so snippy with me earlier, on the bus. And why we argued earlier. Because you're jealous of Kommissar.'

'N-No, I'm not.'

'Chloe, you don't need to lie to me. And anyway, you're really bad at it.' She smiles, but it's tight and doesn't meet her eyes. You can't muster up a laugh either. 'You're jealous,' she goes on, still in that awful even tone, 'because you have feelings for me. Don't you?'

She knows.

She _knows_.

How?

'Who told you?' you whisper, already feeling the harsh sting of betrayal: you'd _trusted_ those girls. Even though you knew Beca was probably aware somehow, you'd expected it to be like a vague suspicion: she'd probably reason it was just you being overfriendly and forget about it. The very idea of one of the other Bellas telling Beca about this, gossiping about it behind your back, laughing at you, makes you feel nauseated.

But what Beca says next is, somehow, even worse.

'Christ, Chloe, really? I'm not – I'm not _blind_ ,' she says, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes. 'Or deaf. Or – you're just really obvious, okay? It wasn't hard to work out; I mean, we met because you came into my _shower_ for God's sake.'

It's been a running joke between the two of you for so long you almost forgot how jarring that whole experience was for her. She's told you as much. Although you can insist all you want that it would be the same if you'd heard any of the future Bellas singing in the shower, you _probably_ wouldn't have jumped in as eagerly if it was anyone other than Beca. Both of you know that, apparently.

'S-so… You knew all along?' The words feel heavy and bitter in your mouth. 'And you never said anything?'

Beca sighs deeply, her eyes flickering open. 'I don't know what I could have said! Like "Oh hey, I know you have a crush on me, sorry I can't return the favour"?'

There's a crushing finality to her words that takes you by surprise; you weren't expecting to hear it like this, so clearly and callously. It hurts more than you ever expected it to. You can feel tears starting to form already, and know Beca can probably see them from the way she looks suddenly horrified – finally, you can see the Beca you recognise instead of this weird, emotionless version.

She squeezes your wrist, which you realise she still hasn't let go of. 'Dude, I'm sorry – I did not mean that how it came out.'

How else could she possibly mean it? 'No, I…' You clear your throat, which is starting to throb: it does that sometimes when you're especially upset, as though you need more reminding of one of lowest points in your life. Beca's starting to turn blurry in your vision and you just want to leave and get away from Beca immediately. 'I need to go.'

'Hang on,' she says in a pleading tone, surprising you. 'Can't we talk about it?'

'What more is there to talk about? You just told me you don't feel the same way,' you respond as flatly as you can, and wrench your arm out of her grip to run your fingers through your hair. She lets you, her own arm falling limply to her side. 'I need to go; I need to not be here right now.'

Stumbling away, you nearly break your neck tripping over the random junk Beca and Amy have strewn about the room; you're almost at the stairs when you hear Beca say, ' _Wait._ '

You turn. Beca's on her feet too, looking lost in the middle of the room.

'I want us to stay friends,' Beca says, and you can hear how desperate she sounds. 'I mean - you've been my best friend for years, I don't see why…' She swallows, wringing her hands. 'I know you're upset, but let's not throw it away over this, okay? Can't we just forget all this ever happened?'

You want to.

But now it's out there. Beca knows, and you can't look at her without thinking about how it's never going to happen. You'd known all along, of course – Beca's straight, you've told yourself that every day whenever you found your gaze drifting towards her – but today was different. Today made you wonder if you had a shot for once.

Looking back, you don't know what you were thinking. A few flirty lines to a random, attractive woman is hardly going to undo Beca completely; if she was ever interested in girls surely you would have known by now, and either way, there's still Jesse. Nothing would have ever happened. You can't stand your own arrogance.

'I-I can't.'

The look on Beca's face _ruins_ you.

'So that's it? We're just – we're -' She looks so fucking helpless - all because of you - and you find you can't hold back the tears anymore.

You hear Beca murmur your name, and then she's pulling you into another clumsy hug and you're soaking the shoulder of her shirt _again_ (surely this is a record). Only you don't want to let go this time when Beca tries to pull back to look at you, in case it's the last time you ever get to hold her.

'Chlo,' whispers Beca. You feel her touch the tips of her fingers to your damp cheek. 'Stop crying, you know I hate it.'

'I'm sorry,' you sob, clutching at Beca's fingers as they trail down your face. You can't bear such an intimate touch right now.

'I …' Her frown grows deeper as she searches your eyes and leans in a little. For one wild moment you almost think Beca might kiss you – but then all she does is plant a lingering kiss on your forehead. She has to stand on her tip-toes just to do that. 'You're such a freaking weirdo,' she tells you, laughing through tears into your right ear. 'You could have anyone you wanted, Chlo. Literally _anyone_ would jump at the chance to be with you that way. Why would you want _me_?'

'I don't know,' you reply, but Beca doesn't seem to be listening.

'You're the best friend I've ever had, Chloe,' she tells you, lips still against your skin, and her voice trembling. 'You always will be. I'm so sorry I can't be any more than that. I'm sorry - if things were different -'

You feel more than hear her breath catch as she gasps, and you nearly butt heads with her from raising yours so fast. 'What?' you say sharply, tears almost forgotten in your adrenaline.

'Nothing,' she answers hurriedly, 'nothing. I shouldn't have said that.'

'Beca Mitchell. What the hell do you mean by "if things were different"?'

She's blinking very fast right now, looking the very definition of "cornered". 'I meant – well, there's Jesse, of course. But ah, I think I'm kind of lacking in the lesbo feelings department as well, haha, so um – that's obviously what I meant by that… I just wanted you to stop crying, I'm sorry.'

'That's it?' you ask, the disappointment washing over you all over again even with Beca's suspiciously erratic reply. 'And yet you chose to say _that_ to comfort me? Oh my _God_.' You press your fingers into your sore eyes and wipe away the remnants of tears, wanting the world to disappear. 'I seriously hate you right now, Beca.'

'I kind of hate me too,' she says, with an uncomfortable chuckle as she lowers herself back down onto her heels. 'God, why do you have to be taller than me? It's just as well we're not together, I'd get neck ache all the time. Sorry,' she adds sheepishly, seeing the glare you send her.

'Can you please not mess with my feelings?' you snap, rubbing your temples. You can feel a headache coming on.

'I wasn't…'

'Then why would you even _say_ something like that?' you growl. 'For serious, Beca, you're giving me mixed signals right now. It's not fair.'

'I know, I know.' She shifts her weight from foot to foot, wrapping her arms around herself. 'I'm just - confused, I guess.'

'Why?' Beca doesn't answer immediately, so you try another tactic to get her to actually talk to you for once. 'Is this about what happened earlier? With Kommissar?'

'What? No! Look, in my defence, I have no idea what happened there,' she says, blushing. 'I just like… lost my mind, temporarily. That's never happened to me before.'

You can't help your scepticism. 'Really?'

'Really. Well. Sort of.' She makes a frustrated noise, rolling her eyes. 'Oh, look - I don't know, Chloe, my head's all messed up today. There's so much going on my life already, with the Worlds, and the – and the Bellas,' she says, averting her eyes. You rather think that wasn't what she was going to say the first time around. 'And then _you_ come in here and you're all jealous, and crying on me and you _know_ I can't deal with crying girls. I'm just trying not to make things worse. I don't want to fuck things up between us.'

Beca mumbles that last bit, and she looks so endearingly frazzled by the whole situation it cuts right through your anger at her. She's always had a knack for that; you could never stay upset at her for long because she gets so worried when it happens now. Freshman Beca might have flipped you off and acted like you never meant anything to her anyway, but over time you've apparently wormed your way under her shell and she can't pretend anymore. It's gratifying that you've had such an effect on her yet also exhausting watching her run in circles just so the boat doesn't get rocked sometimes.

She's watching you.

'Are we okay?' she asks in a small voice.

'I don't know,' you reply honestly, feeling a pang in your chest when she flinches. 'I think I need time, Beca. This is really hard for me.'

'I know. I know, I'm sorry. I wish I could -'

'Oh my God, please don't end that sentence if you want us to stay friends.' You slump against the railing of the stairs, tipping your head back with a groan. 'I get it, okay? We're never going to be together. I got that memo a _long_ time ago, Beca, and I thought I'd come to terms with it. And yeah it sucks hearing that you don't feel the same way, but you're seriously confusing me with the way you're acting right now. Especially since it doesn't even _matter_ whether you like girls or not, because I'll never be eno -'

Your words are unceremoniously cut off by Beca lurching forward and kissing you. It only lasts a second, barely long enough for you to realise it's happening. But when it's over and all you can do is look at Beca incredulously, she has gone completely white in the face.

' _Shit_ ,' she whispers. 'I just kissed you, didn't I.'

'Yes.'

'I. Just. Kissed. You. Oh my God. Did I seriously just do that?'

'You did,' you reply, feeling your heart in your mouth, and the lingering feeling of her lips on yours.

Beca shuts her eyes.

'Oh fucking hell, I'm so screwed,' she mumbles and then bolts down the stairs.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating! Just one more exam left, bleh. You guys have been amazing, I've never had such a positive (and fast!) response to anything I've written before, so this is a nice feeling.**

* * *

'Hey, where's Beca?'

'I _don't know_ ,' is your exasperated response. It's the third time you've been asked that this morning by one of the girls and every time you've not been able to say any more than those three words. You don't know why they think you would have any idea – they're fully aware that she ran out after an argument with you last night. A few of them have already commented on how they saw Beca pelting out the door looking like she saw a lesbian ghost. To which you can only think, 'Well, bisexual, actually.'

You sent a text out to all the Bellas to get them to meet you here this morning, and received no response from the person you really meant it for. You'd expected radio silence with regards to what happened between the two of you, but not for her to ignore her expected contributions to the team – and after the spectacle you witnessed yesterday at the car show, you can't believe she would leave you all in the lurch like this. It's immensely selfish. And yet, so very Beca.

Currently you're writing up notes on the whiteboard about Das Sound Machine in preparation for this meeting. Behind you, someone – probably Emily - whispers, 'Should we wait for her?'

'No, no,' you reply icily, without turning around. If anyone notices the slightly aggressive press of your whiteboard pen, making it slip over the surface as you scrawl "REFINE STAGE APPEARANCE", they don't comment. 'If Beca has somewhere better to be, then that's her prerogative.'

You cannot _wait_ to hear about this one.

It takes a little while but eventually Beca does turn up; you barely hear the door bang against the wall before she's striding inside. 'Sorry I'm late guys, had some stuff to sort through,' Beca breezes as she sets down her Mac on the piano then takes her place at your side, all in one smooth movement. You barely get enough time to arrange your features into something appropriately conveying your fury with her. 'Where have _you_ been?' you growl.

She doesn't even bat an eyelash. 'Not right now, Chlo,' she says, brushing you off with nary a second thought save for a slight blush in her cheeks. 'Anyway, fill me in. Where are we at right now?'

The Bellas are watching with bated breath to see if you'll blow up at her, and you dearly want to. However, as much as you'd love to stay and call Beca out for this emotionally stunted behaviour (which is _so_ 2012), you have more important things to worry about right now. Like the acapella team you still need to save; apparently you're the only one who cares about it anymore.

'Tongue dexterity,' you sigh, tapping number three on the board.

She blinks, looking around and scanning your words. You see her eyebrow quirk up, but she makes no comment other than '… Right. Well, I'll let you handle that one, then.'

* * *

Once you've got all the Bellas focused on something, you take your moment to sidle over to Beca. As she glances up, seemingly sensing your presence, she shoots you the briefest smile you've ever seen from her before turning back to the screen.

'Hi,' she says, before you can speak. 'How's the choreography going? It looks pretty good from over here - although what the hell is that weird tiger thing you're all doing? I'm no dancer but I'm gonna say we should veto that one. As cute as you all look prowling about on the stage I feel like I should be investing in some litter boxes -'

' _Mitchell_ ,' you interrupt, slightly amazed at how many words she managed to speak in such a short amount of time. The use of her last name (and the Aubrey-like tone) does its job in shocking her into a stupefied silence. 'We need to talk.'

She stares at you for a moment, swallowing reflexively; then her gaze skitters away. 'What about, Chlo?' she asks you, now fiddling about with various settings and layering effects with the mix. You've watched her do this enough to know she's not actually changing anything, just trying to stall.

'Last night.'

'What about it?'

'Don't try and play dumb with me - you know exactly what I mean. You can't run away from this forever, Beca.'

'That's what you think,' you hear her mutter. She glances up, catches your eye and notices your frown. 'Uh, here,' she says, hurriedly shoving the headphones over your head with much less care than she would normally treat such a prized possession. Beca grabs her laptop and turns the volume up so loud you wince. 'This is what I have so far - take a listen.'

You listen, just to humour her a little in hope that it'll get you back on track, and because you're in desperate need of some music to go with the choreography you've been creating for the last half an hour. However, it doesn't take long at all for you to realise that it's… not very good. In fact, knowing Beca's usual standards, you'd almost say it was _bad_. While Beca's had hardly any time to work on it (she didn't exactly get around to mixing last night, after all), you'd expected it to at least be a little better than this. Maybe this is why she's usually so reluctant to let you listen to her unfinished mixes.

Luckily it only lasts about thirty seconds, but you can tell she's just cobbled this together as fast as she can so she has something to make you listen to. You're saved the pain of telling her outright, at least: she can obviously read what you're thinking from your expression, even if you're trying to put in a few of the requisite headbobs and shoulder shimmies. She gives you an apologetic look as the music ends and you finally lower the headphones to lie on your shoulders.

'I know,' she says glumly. 'it's a load of crap. But hey, at least it's not an empty canvas, right?'

'Beca, I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work. We _are_ going to talk about this.'

You think you might have gotten through to her, this time. But then she's snatching the headphones from around your neck and jamming them over her head with the same speed she pushed them onto you. 'I'll work on it,' she half yells to you over the sound of the music and turning away, and oh _for God's sake_ , you give up with this girl and her ridiculous inability to face a situation head on. If she doesn't want to talk about it maybe there's no point in pushing her.

Plus, there's that teeny-tiny part of you that wants to do exactly the same as her: ignore the whole situation in hope it goes away, because change is hard and scary and you're terrified that facing what's going on between the two of you will mean ruining everything. That it'll mean losing Beca, and the Bellas, and your title as acapella champions. And if you don't have those three things, who the hell _are_ you?

… You try and ignore that part of you.

* * *

Originally, you intend for your (only mildly! You winked, after all) passive-aggressive comment to Beca about getting the arrangement done ASAP to be the only other thing you say to her today. Although you dearly want to talk to Beca about the situation and get some damn answers (Why did she kiss you? Why?) you're pretty sure it's not going to happen today, and maybe that's the way it should be. You have far better things to do than run around after someone who won't even talk to you. Or so you tell yourself.

You get waylaid by Cynthia Rose on the way out, who does not seem particularly enthused about the idea of including pyrotechnics ('Those things are _lethal_ ,' she complains, patting her hair worriedly; you promise to look into it, but remind her that there's no way you're going to win Worlds without props so she better get used to it).

'Sorry to keep you, anyway,' Cynthia Rose says, adjusting her bag strap on her shoulder. 'I guess you're waiting for Beca?'

'No, I'm not. Why?'

' _Well_ , kinda seemed like you guys had something to talk about.' The upward quirk of her eyebrow at the end of that sentence suggests she thinks you need to do more than just talk. 'You were grouchy with each other during practice, and Beca seemed pretty upset when I saw her this morning - plus we all heard you having a blow out last night. And not the good kind,' she says, shaking her head.

You're sure you misheard. 'Wait, what? Go back a bit – what did you just say?'

Her nose scrunches up in confusion. 'Uh… We heard you guys having a blow out last night, and not the good kind?'

'No, not that part – please don't let Beca hear you say that. I meant about this morning,' you say, anxiously biting your thumbnail. 'You saw her? Was she in the house?'

'Mmhm. She came back, got some clothes and rushed back out again. I think you were having your usual hour long shower with the radio on.'

You swear you can feel your eye twitching. Beca came back last night. You'd expected her to go to Jesse's or wherever after running out last night – he _is_ her boyfriend after all, much as you hate to admit it – but to hear that she came back only to run out again, without speaking to you? You're scared too, but this is a new level of cowardice even for her. Cynthia Rose is watching you with some level of trepidation as these feelings play out on your face. 'I… get the feeling I probably shouldn't have mentioned that.'

'No,' you say from between gritted teeth, 'probably not.'

You spin on your heel to walk back into the auditorium, intent on at least getting an answer from her about why she didn't tell you she came back this morning - but are nearly knocked over by the very person you were hoping to talk to as she bounds out of the door like a brunette out of hell. ' _Beca_!' you cry, trying to catch her arm as she goes, but she wrenches it out of your grip and continues running.

'Sorry Chloe, I _really_ need to go somewhere!'

'Beca Mitchell, you come back here right now!' you holler; unfortunately she just waves back at you and doesn't stop.

'You too, huh?' says a despondent Emily, suddenly appearing at your shoulder. 'I tried to talk to her as well but she said she had some place to be. Where do you think she's going?'

'Who knows? Probably off to shack up with Jesse,' you reply bitterly, before you realise you're making Emily and Cynthia Rose uncomfortable. 'Sorry.'

Emily smiles. 'No worries, I get it. My parents fight all the time.' You try not to overthink that statement, while Cynthia Rose stifles her laugh into her fist. 'Um… If you don't mind me asking, what's going on with you guys? I'm getting some super weird vibes from the two of you.'

'Does "weird" mean gay as hell?' says Cynthia Rose, raising an eyebrow.

Emily seems almost panicked by this comment; she raises her hands to protest her innocence, looking at you with wide eyes. 'She said it, not me!'.

'Well, since Beca is the biggest butthead in the world – absolutely nothing is happening,' you answer moodily. 'Nothing at all. So don't even worry about that.'

Cynthia Rose pats you on the shoulder. 'Give her time,' she tells you sympathetically. 'And maybe tie her up in your room if you can't get her to talk you again. I can provide the equipment.'

'… I may just take you up on that.'

* * *

Beca does not come back that night. Or the night after, in fact.

It's not that you're worried, per se – after all, it's blatantly obvious where she's been staying. And alright, so you _may_ have shot off a quick text to Jesse, just to make sure Beca was definitely there, to which he'd replied in the affirmative. There'd also been a second text, asking what the hell happened and why Beca is making mixes in his room, completely unresponsive to the world.

That makes you smile a little, in a totally non-vindictive way – you're used to Beca's emotional music comas when everything gets too much for her. In fact, normally it'd be _you_ trying to pull her out of them, with backrubs and greasy food every few hours when you can get her to remove her headphones. Much as Beca would like you to, she can't be left alone in that state or she'll just hole herself away from human contact and showers for days.

You tell him you had a fight and to make sure she's eating. Thankfully, he has some tact and leaves it at that; he knows if Beca isn't going to tell him, you certainly aren't.

Honestly, he's too good for her. Yet the thought of her rushing back to him, lying in his bed after kissing _you_ still makes you feel a little queasy.

Still, Beca isn't like you. When you're upset or need to get away from pressing life issues, you have nowhere else to go but the Bellas' house, with its occasionally overwhelming occupants. All _your_ friends have graduated and moved on with their lives, and you stopped trying to meet anyone on your course a long time ago because they kept leaving too. Oh, there's your parents and Aubrey, of course, but not without several hours of driving; there isn't anyone you can just fuck off to overnight and stroll back in time for morning classes without anyone batting an eyelash. You're all alone, except for the Bellas.

But then, maybe that's not such a bad thing. You love them in spite of how nosy they can be: the Bellas are exceedingly curious about what transpired between the two of you. Neither Emily nor Cynthia Rose are capable of holding down gossip after all, so it soon carries around the house that you and Beca are having a 'lover's spat' as Stacie dubs it.

For Beca's benefit, though (even though you don't know why you want to do anything for her benefit ever again) you keep any details about exactly what happened under wraps. You'd rather it didn't get back to Jesse and you risk alienating Beca even more by ruining her relationship (what's left of it, anyway, you think not-at-all-bitterly). So you keep a buttoned lip and merely smile when they come up with their own theories for why Beca ran out, ranging from you revealing to Beca that you're not a real ginger (the cheek!) to propositioning her to join salsa lessons with you. You know they're just making up outlandish theories in hope you might correct them, but they never pry deeper than that, much to your relief.

Either way, they can tell something big went down that upset the two of you, and they behave accordingly to try and cheer you up. Amy leaves candy on your desk in the shape of a smiley face; Stacie puts her arm around you and offers to hook you up with her friend who has 'seriously good tits and can tie a cherry stem with her tongue'. Emily comes up to you holding a piece of paper which she says is a song about you and Beca called "Bechloe, Oh-No-y, Where did Beca Go-y?" (she assures you it's only a working title). You quickly decline to follow up on all of these, except Amy's candy face which you munch on despondently from the window-seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Beca possibly walking up the path.

It's all very sweet of them and you do appreciate their misguided yet adorable attempts to put a smile on your face. Yet you would much rather have them leave you alone and Beca come home instead, because you're starting to lose your mind a little with the growing anticipation of what might happen when you eventually do confront her.

* * *

As it turns out, the answer to that question is "beat her around the head with a pillow". It's not quite as violent as it sounds, unfortunately - it happens on the back of a random pillow fight with the Bellas which you don't remember how it started. Besides Amy suddenly rushing into your room screaming 'PILLOW FIGHT!', simultaneously knocking you off the window-seat with the force of the blow that catches you on the side of the face, that is.

As you're yelping, 'Amy, what the hell?!' at her rapidly retreating back and scrambling to your feet, you notice the indentation you've left on the window-seat just from sitting there so much the last few days. Maybe it's not so difficult to work out why they want to suddenly have a pillow fight in the middle of the night.

However, something about ladies jumping around in their pajamas hitting each other with cushions and pillows must attract Beca, because she comes home in the middle of it. You don't even notice her at first, too busy trying to knock Jessica off the couch before she can get you. Until you hear her voice.

'What have I walked into?'

You nearly drop your pillow in shock. Amy gets there before you and delivers a solid smack on Beca; not as hard as the one she delivered to _you,_ you can't help thinking with some scorn. She deserves far more for what she's put you through, and you are entirely determined to see a proper punishment delivered.

 _After_ you find out what the hell is in that envelope.

Avoidance? You? Not at all. It's just that, although this hardly absolves her from blame, you are too curious about the contents of the letter she's holding to grill her right now. Plus you _really_ don't want to get into this in front of the Bellas. And maybe you're pretty shocked she came back at all, of her own accord. You didn't even have to make a call to her father, this time, which you've had to before (her sophomore year was a tumultuous time).

Even so, Beca tries her best not to look at you as you open the invite and speculate on what it's all about Soon enough the other Bellas run off to get ready - in an oddly synchronised movement - that very unsubtly leaves the two of you alone. Beca seems to become aware of this fact at the exact same moment as you, her frightened gaze meeting yours; she immediately starts edging towards the stairs while trying to pretend she's not actually moving.

'Bec,' you say, as calmly as you can.

'Nope!' she shouts, and tries to make a run for it. You were waiting for this, because it's such a typically Beca thing to do: you launch yourself at her with the full weight of your body, sending both of you to the floor in a painful pile on the floor. You try not to think about how certain parts of you are now pressed very intimately against certain other parts of Beca's. It's not hard to get it out of your mind because any coherent thought has been replaced by righteous, righteous anger that you've been suppressing under your righteous, righteous fear for several days.

'Fucking hell, Chlo,' she puffs, trying to get to her knees, 'you're stronger than you – ow!' You raise the pillow and unceremoniously hit her on the head with it.

Multiple times.

'Where have you been, Beca?!' you cry, in between each blow that drives her back down. You have her legs half pinned between your thighs, so she can't get up, and it's probably worrying how much pleasure you're getting out of this. The pillow assault, that is. Not anything else. 'You had me worried sick, you jerk!'

'I was busy!' she squeaks, shielding her head with her arms. 'Oh my God, stop hitting me!'

'You kissed me. And. Then. You. Ran! And didn't come back for _days_! What is wrong with you?!'

'I know! I know, I'm sorry, Chlo, please stop!'

With one last smack on the top of the head for good measure, you shove her onto her back and point a finger in her face, inches from her nose. 'You are _not_ off the hook, not by a long shot,' you warn her in a low voice. 'Do you have any idea what you've put me through the last few days, you ass?'

'If it's anything like what I've been through I might have some idea,' she groans, rubbing pillow feathers out of her eyes. 'Please can we get up now?'

'Are you going to run away again?'

'… No?'

'Not good enough.' You fold your arms. 'Try again.'

'Okay, fine - no, I'm not going anywhere,' she says, her voice sounding oddly strangled. It's about here that you notice she's completely red in the face. 'But seriously, can we get up because all you're wearing are shorts right now and you're kind of sitting on my junk.' It's completely the opposite of what you expect her to say. You end up dropping the pillow on her face by accident in your surprise.

'Or you could do that instead, that's fine,' she replies, sarcasm barely muffled by the material.

'Sorry,' you say, quickly getting to your feet and extending a hand to help her up too. She tosses the pillow aside and starts to crawl towards the stairs; you nearly tackle her again, but to your relief she just sits on the bottom step and tries to get her breath.

'Jesus Christ, I think you cracked a rib,' she says, wincing as she massages her chest. 'I know I've been an idiot, but I'm not sure sending me to the hospital is the way to go.'

'I thought you were going to run off again.'

'Yeah… I guess I've kinda given you reason to believe that's something I'd do.' She starts running her fingers through her messed up hair, trying to tame into submission. You try not to think about how it's pretty similar to what might be her sex hair. You fail at not thinking about this. 'I'm sorry, though. I didn't know what else to do.'

'You could have stayed and talked to me. Like a normal person,' you say pointedly.

'Yeah, but when have I ever been normal?' She smiles, but you don't return it so hers quickly disappears too. 'I got scared, alright? I know I shouldn't have… Uh…'

'Kissed me,' you finish for her, when she trails off. How could she do it if she can't even say the words? 'No, you shouldn't have. Why did you?' She can't answer. This incenses you. 'Come on, it's a simple question. Why did you do it?'

She makes another tortured noise, dropping her face into her palms. 'Are you freaking kidding me? That is _literally_ the hardest question of them all.'

'Okay, I'll ask something different then. What do we do now?'

'Agh, that's hard too…'

'Beca, we need to talk about this sometime.'

'No. No, we don't.'

'Beca -'

'No, seriously,' she interrupts, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 'It's late and the Bellas are probably listening in right now. I've had a shit few days and I know you have too, so I just - I _don't_ want to do this now, okay? Let's just go out to this weird, possibly creepy acapella thing, have fun and forget about all this sucky drama. Just for a little while.' She must see the anger rising up in you, because she swallows and adds quietly, 'But afterwards… Okay, _then_ we can talk all you want.'

'You promise?'

She hesitates, then nods. 'Or you can rip out my vocal cords with wolves, or whatever.'

'We don't have wolves anymore,' you deadpan. 'The bigger budget means we can get lions.'

Beca laughs. It sounds weird and high-pitched, and it takes a moment to register with you that it's because she's just as scared as you are. 'You're _so_ weird. Why are you so weird?'

'You've never complained before.'

'No,' she admits. 'I kinda like it. I… Ah.' She scrubs at her face with her knuckles for a moment, closing one eye, and then she reaches over to you. 'You know, I have absolutely _no_ clue what I'm doing,' she breathes; she takes your hand and visibly braces herself, like you might hit her with a pillow again.

You look down at your linked digits, seeing the trembling of her hand. Her skin is clammy and so is yours, but right now it feels kind of, sort of, perfect.

'Nor do I,' you say finally, giving hers fingers a squeeze and feeling your heart do the same in your chest. 'But… Maybe we can work that out together.'

 **TBC.**

* * *

 **(A/N: Next chapter: the Riff-Off. More UST)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey. So, many apologies for the delays again. This has not been a good week for me all things considered (family ending up in hospital, final exams, dissertation proposal, teaching workshops, blah blah). I'm over the worst of that now and hoping to be able to write a bit more now c:**

 **Still, as an apology, Sweedledome (if you don't know who that is, you should be thoroughly ashamed and go read her fics right now) and I have written a song for you.** **Namely, the Bechloe Oh No-y song is now a real thing, courtesy of us possibly having too much time on our hands. She wrote the rap section, demonstrating that she is, in fact, the dorkier out of the two of us.**

 **Check the bottom notes if you're interested. But if you decide to leave a comment about it, please give feedback on the fic itself as well and** _ **not**_ **just this lyrical masterpiece . ;)**

* * *

In retrospect, it's safe to say that after the brief ray of sunlight that appeared when Beca took your hand, the entire night was a collective disaster.

Oh, it _starts_ well. Beca stays near to your side all the way down to the house, even banging elbows with you a few times in her attempt to keep close. It's far from the most scintillating or intimate contact you've had with a person - but it's Beca so it still sets your nerves alight. You share shy smiles with each other when it happens, like giddy, immature teenagers. When it comes to Beca (and your college transcript) that's pretty much what you are.

However, things start going downhill when you run into Das Sound Machine again. They're looking smug as usual - with thankfully less mesh in their wardrobe – and this is way too soon after the first time for your frayed nerves and barely stifled jealousy. And despite your best attempts at warning the Bellas away, like a tiny gay moth to a German flame, Beca just can't help herself. Nor can Kommissar apparently, because as soon as she sees Beca coming she too makes a beeline straight over. You feel perfectly entitled to glaring at both of her as they launch straight into verbally harassing (or flirting, perhaps that's the same for her) Beca again. What are you, chopped liver? If you'd known insulting Beca got her going then it's a wonder she didn't fall for Aubrey.

Still, you just about manage to stop yourself snapping that Beca is _your_ tiny maus ( _mouse)_ thank you very much _,_ and anyway, if she was going to be an animal she'd probably be something like a chihuahua or a particularly aggressive chinchilla. Something small and annoying but ultimately endearing, and also annoyingly sexy - and okay, you've lost whatever analogy you were going for here.

Basically, the point is that if you weren't so hung up on good sportsmanship and _not_ getting kicked out the Worlds for punching her in the face, you would probably challenge Kommissar (ignoring Jesse, for the moment – or every moment) to a duel for Beca's affections. And you'd win, dammit. Alright, so maybe you wouldn't win in a fistfight, but you could at least totally kick Kommissar's ass at glowsticking. That's an attractive quality in a partner, right? Maybe Beca's always smiled and rolled your eyes whenever you practised or whipped them out in a club, but she's always seemed to find it cute. That's a win in your book. Plus Beca was holding _your_ hand earlier, not anyone else's, and she kissed _you_ (still ignoring Jesse, forever more).

Surely that means something. Surely after tonight, you're headed down a path to something good - something you've been craving for longer than you'd care to admit.

Except that then begs the question: why does Beca start flirting back with Kommissar? "You gorgeous specimen"; she's certainly never referred to you in such flattering terms. You can barely get more than a mumbled comment from Beca if you're going out on a date and ask if your dress shows too much cleavage. Perhaps you should considering dying your hair a different colour to your eyebrows; maybe then she'd be willing to give you more than a second glance.

Luckily for your badly smothered jealousy, Beca gets sidelined by more well-placed jokes about her height. You can barely hide your satisfaction, because Kommissar has unwittingly stepped on a landmine: short jokes are always a sticking point for Beca. You see her visibly bristle, and then she starts fumbling with her words in an attempt to attack back, at which point you know she needs to be dragged away before she shows herself up.

(Exhibit A: Beca is definitely an adorable chihuahua, not a "feisty mouse").

'I just need to find taller shoes, it's okay,' Beca mutters fervently to you with a manic look in her eye. She is either not picking up on or pointedly ignoring the horrified faces you're making as you lead her away. It's a fine line for Beca.

You're just about to ask her what on Earth she thought she was doing just now (déjà vu), when Jesse pops up and distracts her momentarily – just enough to get her attention away from you. By the time that she turns back, the weird acapella fanguy is trying to get everyone's attention.

But, whatever. You've realised that the point of tonight is to sing now, which is basically your lifeblood: music will heal all your wounds, and the thrill of acapella will surely set your head back on straight, keep your jealousy at bay, and calm you down.

* * *

Except, it turns out you were wrong. Because as it happens, acapella does _not_ calm you down. That is, for reasons completely beyond you and totally unrelated to Beca nonchalantly grinding the air near you, "Low" just became your new lady jam.

It's nothing to do with Beca. That song just builds, okay?

* * *

You also find a new appreciation for Carrie Underwood. Also nothing to do with Beca: you just need to listen to more country pop music, that's all.

* * *

Actually, seeing Beca's dance moves, you might have to rethink your earlier assessment that she isn't a mouse.

* * *

Emily.

Emily.

Emily, Emily, Emily, _Emily oh my God, Emily,_ why is she such a _pain in your ass?_ It's such a simple thing to do, i.e. _not_ sing that damn original song she's always humming under her breath which, granted, is sweet and rather catchy but clearly not a 90s hip hop jam. You know she's nervous but it's difficult to contain your anger when the Bellas is already the laughing stock of the country; you cannot be falling down at the first hurdle again.

'Hey, we _don't_ want that,' Beca says warningly to you after Emily makes some desperate comment about dying under a rock, which – no, of course you don't. You might be stressed and upset, but at least you know slightly better than to take it out on poor sweet Emily who's looking at you like a puppy that's pooped in your favourite shoes. So you just bite your tongue and glare, because there are other issues on your mind right now.

Namely, Beca's apparent and sudden inability to stop flirting with every woman that passes by. Yet just as you're about to ask, Jesse suddenly appears out of nowhere to interrupt the moment, as is apparently his new habit: you wonder if he has been consorting with Benji to start magically teleporting him to exact moments when you're about to ask Beca anything important. Beca, apparently forgetting all about her promise of talking afterwards, runs off with Jesse. Leaving you alone once more and watching her back with growing sadness as it retreats.

For a moment, you stand in the midst of all the chaos and music, letting everything wash over you. Acapella would normally be exciting, or at the very least comfortably familiar to you, like an old blanket. Right now, however, you just feel numb and tender all at once. It's almost surreal being surrounded by so much action and intensity when you just can't connect to it right now, and even a little scary: something you normally love so much now feels like it's clawing at you from the inside. It hurts that the thing you've surrounded yourself with for seven years now is causing you so much pain.

You'd love to blame Emily, except you know it's not really her fault. Your girls have been falling apart and losing their sound for a while now. You can't help but think it's at least slightly connected to the growing wedge between you and Beca.

It's not just the Bellas that are falling apart, after all.

And hell, maybe this is all your fault anyway. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything when you got jealous the first time: it seems obvious that Beca isn't interested in you after all. It's entirely possible she only kissed you just to make you stop crying, or because she wanted to make you feel better. Sure, it's not _likely_ , but right now it seems more likely than Beca magically returning your feelings just because you told her you're jealous.

'Chloe. Chlooooe.' Amy says in an undertone, poking you in the ribs and startling you out of your thoughts. 'Yo. Captain. Anyone home? Are you okay?'

Your gaze swivels to Amy, and you consider yelling and stomping your feet for just a second, because it's not fair, and you are not okay. Not at all.

'Yes,' you say, gritting your teeth so hard they squeak as they grind together. 'Yes. I am perfectly fine, Amy.'

Amy's staring at you, and thankfully realises without you needing to explicitly tell her that if you don't get out of here _now_ you're going to splinter into a million, tiny little pieces. As usual, she's very tactful about it. 'You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown.'

'What? No. I'm totally fine.'

'Uh huh,' she replies, unconvinced. 'You look about as put together as Bumper when he watches Grey's Anatomy.' She begins to roll up her sleeves. 'Right. Don't worry your pretty little head a second longer, Chlo; _I'll_ sort this out.'

She marches away in the direction you just saw Beca and Jesse run off in. Seconds later she's shoving dancing Das Sound Machine members out of the way and dragging Beca by the elbow all the back to you. You can hear Beca protesting: 'Amy, what are you doing? Jesse and I were going to meet the Green Bay Packers and get their autograph , let me – oh.'

'Rescued her from Mr White Bread,' says Amy proudly, holding up a limp Beca's arm.

'Is that supposed to be Jesse?' says Beca, scowling, but then she looks over at you, and her face clears. 'Chloe?' There's a brief tussle as Beca tries to walk over to you, and Amy fights to keep hold of her as she thinks she's running back to Jesse. However, when she finally extricates herself, all she does is walk over and cup the backs of your arms. 'Dude, what's wrong?'

You shake your head silently, eyes downcast so she can't see them filling with tears. You've spent a little too much time trying to hide your tears in front of her, lately.

Her thumbs run briefly over the sensitive inside of your elbows. 'I was coming back,' she whispers to you, brow creasing minutely. 'I didn't mean to make you worry, Jesse just wanted…' She bites her lip. 'Never mind, it's not important. Let's just go home, yeah?'

'Finally,' Amy sighs. 'DSM have been singing "Jump" for at least ten minutes now, it's giving me a right headache.'

* * *

The walk back to the Bellas house is not as pleasant as the walk away from it. You've lost half the Bellas to the aca-party, so it's just you and Beca leading Amy, Flo, and Emily back. You left behind Stacie to dance the night away, which didn't surprise you, but also Jessica and Ashley to dance with each other - which did but probably shouldn't have done.

It means the silence is much more oppressive this time, and Emily keeps shooting you guilty looks. She obviously thinks the bitch face you're sporting right now is her fault (which it partly is) and you don't have the energy to soothe her right now.

She tries for conversation only once. 'So,' she says. 'Who else is hopeful about Worlds?'

'I am,' replies Flo. 'This is far from the hardest thing we have faced as a team. Back in my home country -'

'Flo, if I hear you make another reference to your "home country", I will choke you with a Tim Tam.'

Amy gets a glower in response. 'I was actually going to say that my mother always raised me to meet every challenge head on, but thank you for the stereotyping.'

'… Tough crowd.'

Emily gives up after that. You and Beca share a tired look; neither of you have the energy for more Bella antics tonight. It's a relief when you finally arrive back at the house and can finally ditch them.

You let them enter the house before you, then take Beca's hand before she can go after them. 'Come with me,' you tell her quietly, pulling her by the wrist down the corridor with a pointed look back at the girls - warning them not to follow. If something else gets in the way of this conversation tonight you just might scream.

Beca trots after you obediently, but her pace falters when she sees where you're taking her. 'The bathroom?' she says doubtfully. 'Wouldn't we be better off in your bedroom?

'I don't want us to be interrupted.' Thankfully, Beca doesn't argue further, perhaps knowing what thin ice she is on already. Once outside the bathroom, you shove her in, slam the door shut behind you and lock it all in one movement. Then, you turn to her with the most exasperated expression you can muster.

'Beca… Just - _what_ ,' you say weakly, not even able to muster up enough energy to finish a full sentence. Your hands splay momentarily, a bare facsimile of the normal throwing-hands-in-the-air movement you might be inclined to do when confronted – but now you're just too tired to do more than that. Dealing with Beca is exhausting as it is, and you've already had about ten emotional rollercoasters today. 'That's pretty much all I can say about tonight.'

Beca flushes, tugging at her collar in embarrassment. 'Yeah… I'm not too sure either,' she says, in the same tone you used. 'Uh, if it helps, I don't think I've slept more than five hours in the last few days so my mental functions are not all there right now.' She scrunches up her face, looking at you warily. 'I get the feeling you're mad at me for some reason.'

'Well, unless I somehow dreamed you flirting with the enemy right in front of me again… Yes.'

When Beca shuffles guiltily, it's confirmed to you that you most certainly weren't dreaming. 'Ah. In my defence, I'm not sure I'd call what I did "flirting".'

'No? Then what _would_ you call it?'

'I dunno, something that makes me feel less guilty.'

You can still feel the pangs of envy in the pit of your stomach which you felt only days ago upon meeting Das Sound Machine for the first time. This time you know it's not a fluke, and that Beca has definitely been flirting with another woman right in front of you. Only now that she knows your true feelings about the situation, it's even worse. From the way she walks over to lean against the opposite wall to put the most space between you two, and seems to be finding the nail polish on her left hand suddenly super interesting, you think she's aware of this too.

'You know… I thought we'd come to _some_ sort of understanding,' you say. 'Even though we hadn't talked properly about it, I figured we were headed somewhere in particular, and…' The sentence peters into nothing; the wobbling of your voice makes you sound so pathetic. 'I see I was wrong.'

She frowns, still not meeting your eyes. 'Wrong?'

'I don't know what you're doing. I can't work out why you would get my hopes up like that, and then blatantly hit on someone else in front of me.'

'That's… That's not what I was doing.'

'Sorry, is there another word for telling another woman she's a "gorgeous specimen"?' you say angrily.

'Verbal diarrhea?' Beca all but squeaks. 'I really wasn't trying to upset you – I mean, I suppose in a way I was, and oh wow, that sounds bad, never mind.'

Hearing this, things gradually slot into place as you come to a realisation. One you probably should have come to earlier.

'Beca. You weren't _deliberately_ trying to make me jealous, were you?'

Beca chokes, apparently having not expected you to call her out this immediately. 'What? Psh! Pshhh! Absolutely not!' she splutters, but her eyes are darting around the room and she suddenly can't keep still.

'You were, weren't you?'

'No…'

'You don't need to lie to me, Beca. And anyway, you're really bad at it.' You smile, recalling when she said the same thing to you.

Her jaw hardens defiantly for a few moments and you worry you assumed wrongly and got your hopes up for nothing again. But then the fight goes out of her as quickly as it came. ' _Hypothetically_ , would it be really bad if I said I was?'

'Yes.'

Beca cringes a little. 'Ah. In that case, no, definitely not. And if I _had_ been, it also wouldn't have been because I wanted to make sure you weren't just kidding around about being jealous of Kommissar…?'

Dear God, she's an _idiot._

'And hypothetically, I am _really_ sorry,' she goes on, eyes widening as she turns a shade of red you didn't even know was physically possible. 'I knew it wasn't a good idea as soon as I did it. Only I've been kind of delirious since it happened and managed to convince myself you made it up as some elaborate prank…'

You breathe out slowly through your nose, trying to calm yourself; she stops talking, as though expecting you to start screaming at her. It's certainly one of the possible reactions you're considering right now. 'You know, Beca, you are really dumb sometimes,' you say, with a slight chuckle.

'I'm starting to realise that, yes.'

'But then again…' You slowly step into her personal bubble, inwardly marvelling at how low your voice has gotten and the way Beca gulps at the sound of it. Having your nodes removed did you some good apparently. Beca inhales sharply as your knees graze the inside of her legs, backing up against the wall a little more. 'I guess it worked, so maybe not.'

She laughs shakily, swallows, and tilts her chin up so your faces are barely an inch apart. 'I have that going for me, at least.'

'Oh, Beca. You have a lot going for you,' you say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It should not thrill you this much to see her shiver like that in response to your touch. 'Rational thinking skills, on the other hand, possibly not. What were you thinking?'

'I dunno, man, I said the first thing that came to mind.'

'You told her she was a "gorgeous specimen",' you say, amused.

'I said it was the first thing, not the best thing.'

You can't help but laugh, because you truly are in love with an idiot. You really should have known that trying to drag Beca into confronting her feelings would never go smoothly. Honestly it's a miracle you've managed to get her this far and that she hasn't run screaming out the door. Beca is prickly and emotionally constipated at the best of times, especially when it comes to her feelings, so you ought to have expected that she'd try and deal with the situation like this. That is: in a completely and utterly ridiculous manner.

And yet you still love her for some reason. You know you shouldn't, but Beca somehow always pulls you back in despite how much it hurts. Somehow she only has to flash that mortified, embarrassed expression when she knows she's done something stupid to get you to forgive her. She has that face on now, and all you can feel is affection.

It hits you in that moment that you want to kiss her. You _need_ to kiss her right now, _so fucking badly_ it genuinely hurts to look at Beca at the moment. You've felt it before, but never this strongly, nor felt like you actually _could_ do it. It would be so easy: she's just a small distance away, all you'd have to do is duck your head a little and you could feel those lips on yours…

Some part of the need you feel right now must be showing up on your face, because she takes another shuddering breath and shifts her weight slightly; your legs brush again. 'God, stop looking at me like that,' she mutters. 'I can't take it.'

'Looking at you like what?'

'Probably the way I'm looking at you right now,' she admits, raising her eyes to do just that, and you feel a rush of heat flare through your gut at the sight. 'Like you want to kiss me.'

'What's stopping you?'

She squirms in this very particular way that is horribly sexy and conjures up less than savoury images in your imagination.

"Low" is suddenly on repeat in your mind.

'Um, I guess there's that tiny issue of me having a boyfriend,' she says with a absent-minded chuckle, as though not quite aware of what she's saying – but for you, it's like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown over you. You step back, seeing the realisation hit her at the same time. Beca seems to be seriously regretting her decision to say anything; she groans in annoyance, slapping her forehead.

'Wow, you _really_ know how to kill a moment,' you say wryly.

'I know. I kind of want to punch myself in the face right now.'

She looks like she might, and even raises her fist. You grab her wrist before she can do so, gently passing your thumb over the pulse point there. 'So… You're still with him, huh.' You knew this already, but for a few blissful moments you forgot all about her being taken. 'And yet you were flirting with Kommissar _and_ me tonight?'

She must hear the disapproval in your voice, because she winces. 'I know it's bad,' she says. 'But it's not like I woke up this morning all "Hey, I know what I want to do today!". It was a spur of the moment thing.'

'Do you often hit on women on the spur of the moment, then?'

'… Now I do, apparently. Oh, spare me the glares,' she says huffily, rolling her eyes. 'And don't act all high and mighty – _you_ were the one pinning me up against a wall only seconds ago.'

' _I'm_ not the one in a relationship,' you point out.

Silence follows, where Beca's face goes blank; you're not sure if you've made her furious or reduced her to tears with that remark, and the tensing of her muscles under your fingers won't tell you which one it is. When she slumps back against the wall, sliding down it until she's sitting, you see that it's neither: she just seems confused.

'You're right. What the fuck am I _doing_ , Chloe?'

Should you talk to her? Sit with her? Try and comfort her? You've dealt with Beca in emotional breakdowns before, yet never ones like this. Right now she's just staring into space with glazed eyes.

'I'm with Jesse,' she says aloud, as though discovering this fact for the first time. 'He's my boyfriend.'

'…Yes.' You don't know what else you can say.

'Jesse and I are together; we have been for so long I don't really know any different. Except, you -'

She stops, her expression pained.

'Except you,' she says again, quieter. 'Something's changed, and I'm not sure what, exactly. But I think it's me.'

'In a good way?'

'… Maybe not.'

Beca falls silent, and immediately you want to pester her for more details. If it were anyone else, you probably would, demanding answers and clarity right now to soothe your own confusion. As it is, it's Beca and you can see how scared she is already. All you can do is wait and hope she finally starts explaining what's going on in that impenetrable brain of hers.

Eventually, she starts speaking, each word achingly slow as though they're an effort just to articulate.

'You know, you've _really_ messed with my head, Chloe. You're my best friend, you have been for years and I've been totally happy with that. Except now it feels so different. Now it feels like you're in my brain, except so much more, more like my whole body, really. And Jesus, I've not slept _at_ all the last few days because of it so my mind feels so fucked. Now I don't know if I want to be with Jesse, or…'

Beca trails off with a frustrated growl. Her hands gesticulate wildly in a flurry of movement, then pound down as fists on the tiled floor.

'Fuck, this is all going so stupidly fast,' she groans. 'Last week I'd never even thought of a girl in that way; now it's all I can think about. I think I'm losing it.'

Beca. You feel for her, even though you don't entirely understand. You never really had the angst about do-I-like-boys, do-I-like-girls-oh-no; attraction was just attraction for you, and so was love, and you never really had to question the gender aspect of it. Then again, up until recently Beca's always been firmly in the "totes straight, stay away" category in your head, and it's difficult enough for _you_ to come to terms with the idea that she might be anything besides that. You can't imagine what it's like for her.

You slowly kneel down, reaching a hand to touch her knee and expecting her to flinch away. However, she lets you do it. Her only reaction is to ask in a breaking voice, ' _Am_ I losing it?'

'No,' you say gently, smoothing your hand over her kneecap, 'no. You're fine, Beca. Everything's going to be okay.' Your heart hates you for being about to say what's on your lips. Nonetheless, you feel like it's something Beca needs to hear, if only to stop her making that heartbreaking expression. 'Bec… It's okay if you're attracted to women as well as men,' you tell her in as level a voice you can, seeing her head shoot up. 'You can still love Jesse and be in a relationship with him. What happened between us doesn't have to mean anything.'

You're giving her, and yourself, a way out. You aren't sure if you hope she takes it or not.

Yet all she does is bite her lip. 'I don't know if that's what I want.'

'Then what _do_ you want?'

'I don't know _that,_ either.' She tips her head back sharply, cracking it on the wall with a painful thud – she doesn't seem to notice. 'God, I'm sorry. I'm being such an idiot about this. I don't mean to hurt you, honestly, but this is all so confusing for me.' She chuckles darkly. 'You know, when I kissed you that first time, all I could think was that it wasn't what I would have expected. I mean, my world didn't collapse under my feet or anything.'

Is that supposed to be an insult? 'Thanks?'

'I didn't mean it like that. It just struck me how _not_ weird it was. It felt pretty familiar, to be honest, like something just slotted into place - it's like I always knew you were _there_ , but I didn't really want to think about it until the other night. I still don't want to think about it, but I can't forget how good it felt. Because it did. Aaand now I sound like a five year old, sorry.'

You smile. 'No, you're fine - keep going.'

'I was pretty much done with that horrible speech,' says Beca, with a self deprecating roll of her eyes. 'Basically, in sum: it felt pretty good, and I want to feel that again, sometime.'

You can feel her gaze boring into you; it's your turn to squirm. 'Beca…' You lick your lips, which are suddenly dry. You notice her gaze is actually tracking the movement of your tongue. Fuck. 'Stop that.'

'Stop what?'

You see the ghost of a smirk appear on her face before it disappears. She knows exactly what she's doing. 'Seriously, Beca. We can't.' You believe what you're saying, even though _oh my God,_ you want to do just that. You want to destroy Beca with your touch, claim her body with your teeth and tongue until she cries out your name, not his, and finally send her home to Jesse unable to walk straight. And you should really not be thinking about that while locked in a bathroom and sitting only a foot away from her. 'I want to as well, but we shouldn't. Not while you're still with him, okay?'

'I know.'

'Do you?' you say doubtfully. 'I mean it. I know you're confused, but I'm not going to let you cheat on him with me.'

It's possibly harsh to frame it in such a way, but you needed draw your limits. All the same, you can see clearly see Beca bristling and withdrawing from the conversation emotionally. 'That's not what I was asking you to do,' she tells you tersely. 'I was just saying how I felt, not being all, "Oh Chloe, shut up and make out with me right now".'

'Don't be like that,' you say, wounded. 'It's okay to _admit_ there's something going on, Beca. We can talk about it. All I'm saying is that we shouldn't act on it while you're still with Jesse.'

She stays tense for a few moments, eyeing you with distrust. 'I'm being a dick, aren't I.'

'A little, yeah.'

'Sorry. Guess that's me now.' You want to question her use of the word "now", but figure that wouldn't be received well at this moment. 'I thought I had a pretty good idea of who I was and where I was going in life, but in the space of like two weeks it feels like everything has been flipped upside down. I feel seriously lost.'

You lean in, trying to indicate what you're going to do with your eyes; to your relief she doesn't stop you as you wrap your arms around her. Beca sinks into your embrace in a way she never has before, hand fisting in the material of your shirt. 'I know it's scary, but don't have to do it alone. I'm here, Bec. Nothing has to change unless you want it to.'

That's the million dollar question, which Beca still seems to be struggling with. You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, only hearing the faint sounds of the girls in the house and Beca's breathing. 'Honestly, I want things to go back to the way they were before,' she whispers. 'But… they won't. So instead I'm stuck with these shitty, confusing feelings.'

'They're not always shitty and confusing. Sometimes they're pretty great.'

She tilts her head up, cheek brushing your collarbone. 'Really? I feel like I've put you through the wringer, emotionally.'

'You have,' you assure her, with a smile to show you don't mean any harm by the comment. 'But… You've also made me feel pretty awesome, at the same time.'

'Yeah.' Her eyes drop down to your lips. 'You, as well.'

This kiss is not as unexpected as the first time; you get a moment to prepare, and completely forget all your morals and principles. You're a horrible, horrible person for enjoying this, but you can't help it. Fingers hesitantly trace your jaw, drawing you in closer; you don't know how she can move when you feel frozen to your spot, barely able to breathe, let alone kiss her back or touch her. Yet you almost whimper as she pulls away. It was much too quick, and too soon for you to really come to terms with the fact she's kissing you _again_. Something you never thought would happen at all, let alone twice in your lifetime.

'Yeah,' she says - barely a breath away from your lips, as though confirming something for herself. 'I think… Yeah.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' Beca confirms. 'But… Maybe not _quite_ yet?'

The air feels like it's been squeezed out of your lungs. 'Oh,' you start to say, but Beca puts up a hand.

'I know, that's awful after everything I put you through – but I think I need some time to sort out what the hell I'm even feeling. And I don't want to jump straight into this - if we're going to do… Well, whatever. We should take some time to work stuff out, shouldn't we?'

She sounds so earnest, and you know she's right – it doesn't stop the completely unnecessary disappointment flooding through you all the same in response to it. Beca's face falls as she correctly reads your emotions.

'Sorry, did I fuck up again? I thought I was doing the right thing this time.'

'No,' you say, rushing to reassure her before she can start beating herself up over it, even though the right thing to do probably wouldn't have included kissing you. 'No, you are.'

'You're not mad?'

'Of course not. You're right, we shouldn't rush.' You hate that it makes sense, but appreciate where she's coming from. Except rushing is pretty much all you want to do right now. Jesse can go fuck himself, as far as your hormones are concerned.

'Dude, seriously, don't look at me like that. I only have so much self control.' She gets to her feet unsteadily, looking down on you while she worries her bottom lip. 'Are we okay?'

Let's recap: emotional and physical exhaustion is weighing on you more than it ever has in your life, and if possible, you're even more confused than you were before you entered this bathroom. All you can discern from Beca's disjointed little speech is that she maybe, probably likes you, but she doesn't want to rush things, even though she just kissed you again. You want her so badly you ache _everywhere_ but know you can't act on any of your feelings right now.

Why does she do this to you? It's so unfair that Beca seems to just act without even thinking of the consequences, even though _she's_ the one with the boyfriend. If anyone should be frightened of the consequences, it ought to be Beca. Yet it's always you walking on eggshells around her, while she flits in and out of your life and your heart as she pleases. Maybe she's not as scared of losing you as you are of her.

'I think so.'

'I kinda want to kiss you again,' Beca admits, making your breath catch.

Please do, says your mind.

'Please... Don't.'

'I won't,' she replies, looking vaguely disappointed. 'Don't worry.' She sighs. 'I should… talk to Jesse. In the morning I mean. Or maybe after I've had like at least three days of sleep.'

You can barely concentrate on what she's saying yourself, only nodding vacantly as Beca unlocks and opens the bathroom door. Almost immediately, you hear the telltale noise of the Bellas scattering and running to their rooms, including Amy tripping up the stairs as she tries to climb the spiral staircase in a rush.

'Bluh. Eavesdroppers.'

'Call them witnesses,' you say hoarsely. 'They can vouch for me when you later try to pretend none of this happened.'

You mean it as a joke, and Beca laughs uneasily; however, it rings perhaps a little too true for both of you.

* * *

 **A/N: Whelp.**

Bechloe, oh-no-y

Where did Beca go-y?

She ran away

'Cause she's a lady gay

And broke the heart of Chloe

Bechloe, oh-no-y

Why's this fic so slow-y?

All the UST In the Riff Off scene

When Beca and Chloe get low-y

 **Emily's weird rap bit:**

Hey sit back a second and lemme explain the sitch

My name is Emily, your new Bella bitch

I been working on a plan to get two folks hitched

That's right, it's Chloe and the great B Mitch

You know they work so well,

Don't you dare call 'em Bhloe

But they stubborn as shit, make us yell, 'Oh no-y'

Stand up and shout,

All we want is some Bechloe

'Do you want a back rub?'

C'mon Chlo, your toner's on showy

Got the B to the M and the C to the B

Put 'em together

And you know it spell Bechloe ( **A/N: Emily can't spell apparently)**

Bechloe, oh no-y

When will they get bone-y?

I can't wait to see

Them in the tent scene

I hope that they get moany


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm sorry, I don't know what it is about me writing that attracts drama in my life. This one got horribly personal to write – my girlfriend and I broke up, so as you can imagine this one was bloody hard. Basically shit is continuing to hit the fan every which way, so forgive me if the next update is slow too; I just can't be bothered anymore, heh.**

 **NOTE: Reuploaded this to FFN cause the notifications got all buggered.**

* * *

'There,' says Beca, half throwing, half dropping her phone onto the bed as she presses "Send" on her text to Jesse. 'I asked him to come over. That's half the job done, right?'

'That's great. Too bad it's not the easy half.'

Your dry comment earns you a glare. 'Wow, thanks for ruining that one, Chlo. I was _actually_ feeling vaguely proud of myself for a moment there.'

She kicks you gently to assure you that there's no real malice in her words. Only in Beca's world would violence equate to affection, you think fondly, as you seize the foot in question and tickle the bottom of it – earning you more attempted kicks as she squeals and tries to get away. You hold fast, laughing at her screams of protest and curses, until Amy hollers from the bottom of the staircase that, 'Some people are trying to have sex, thank you, so can you guys keep it down?'

'Wish I'd never told you about being ticklish there,' she pants, once she's finally escaped your grasp (you let her go, but you won't tell her that). 'You take advantage of it like all the time.'

'It's like your only weakness. Can you blame me?'

Beca shakes her head. 'You're evil, dude. _Evil_. Like I'm pretty sure there are horns hiding under all that hair.' You both chuckle together, but it's not long before her smile fades and she turns pensive again - exactly the reaction you'd been trying to avoid.

'You okay?'

The breath she lets out is shaky, and the smile she gives you is just barely tentative. 'Is there a word for when you feel like you're stomach is trying to eat itself and you feel super sick?'

'Nerves?'

Beca pauses, considering, then snorts. '... No, that's too simple. This is totally new and something no one has ever experienced before. I'm gonna call it "moth attack", 'cause that's what it feels like.'

You wonder how you ever fell for such a goof. 'Do you mean butterflies?'

'No, pfft. That's a stupid term.' She rubs her hand over her arm, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. 'This is really happening, isn't it? In a few hours, it'll all be over. We won't be together, anymore.'

'Yes.' You nudge her leg with your knee until she looks up at you. 'But only if you want it to.' Beca holds your gaze for a few moments, then turns it towards the ceiling and nods. You worry she's starting to regret her decision already. 'Remember what you told me last night - this is for you. Not anyone else.'

'Even you?' she asks weakly.

' _Especially_ me.'

It's taken a while to get to this point. Up until now you'd been of two minds about how she would react the day after the Riff Off: either she would ignore the whole situation again, or take the bull by the horns and throw herself headfirst into whatever was going on with you. To your surprise (even though in retrospect, maybe you shouldn't have been), Beca instead decided to go straight down the middle. Beca seemed to ebb and flow with her feelings, constantly switching between wanting to push ahead or pull back. She made one tiny step forward, such as letting you hold her hand under cover of blanket during Friday Film Night in the house, but it was followed by a giant leap back when she heads over to Jesse's straight after. Each time she'd come back shaking her head when you ask if she's finally spoken to him.

'I really tried,' she assured you guiltily, shuffling her feet like she's a naughty child about to be told off for something. You would have loved to tell her off, but you knew how much she was struggling.

The only point of relief (or contention, depending on your mood) is that she wouldn't kiss you. Still, that's not to say that she hasn't been doing other things that drive you insane: subtly distracting, but endearing activities such as touching her foot to yours when you're sitting on the couch together. Or putting a hand on your back as she passes by you in the kitchen to get to the fridge. You'd feel her eyes on you _all the time_ , and then she'd hold your gaze for just a second too long to be purely platonic if caught.

It's maddening. But even now you would never ask her to stop, and the thought of scaring her off when you're so close to finally getting somewhere is all too real. You are just that weak.

Occasionally, you've felt like she's playing with you just for the fun of it: some elaborate prank she's been plotting with the Bellas to throw you off guard. However, the many late night conversations you've been having with Beca recently are beginning to convince you otherwise, because apparently getting Beca to discuss her feelings has opened some sort of floodgate. She's spent the time since the Riff-Off just turning over the subject in her head, and in conversations with you, with little conclusion to any of the conversations. She'd only talk to you about it under cover of darkness, as though she couldn't be held accountable for her words if no one could see her lips forming them. Once she's decided on one course of action, she would be happy, almost determined, and you think she might let the wound heal a little. Next thing, she'd be reopening the topic and jabbing at the situation until you were both bleeding and sore.

There have been so many moments where you've just wanted to shake her and say, 'Just look at yourself!' She's obviously not happy with Jesse – or at least you _think_ so. You're not entirely sure. That doubt is the only thing stopping you. You're equally terrified of influencing her decision, in case she regrets it later and blames you.

Last night, however, was when it finally seemed like you broke through her paralysing indecision.

* * *

'I can't,' Beca had groaned, her palms pressing against her eyelids in frustration. ' _We_ can't do this. This is going to hurt him so much, Chloe.'

You'd heard this one a few times already, and it was beginning to wear against your patience. 'We've _already_ done this. We can't take it back - you don't think he'd still be hurt if he found out you have feelings for me, never mind everything else that has happened?' You stopped that train of thought, because Beca lowered her hands and glared at you over the top of them.

'I don't have feelings for you,' she said, rising up on her elbows as her brow lowers sulkily. 'Well, not anymore. I've just decided.'

You barely reacted, beyond a sigh. You knew she wasn't serious, but even joking about it made you uncomfortable. 'Just like that, huh?'

'They're just emotions, I don't need them. No one needs them,' she insisted. 'I'm turning mine off.'

'Right,' you replied neutrally – or as neutrally as you could when your insides were twisting unpleasantly. 'If you work out how to do that, let me know. We could make a fortune.'

Beca kept up that defiant, challenging look for a valiant five seconds before it crumpled in the face of your own stony one. 'This is messed up,' she said, pushing her hands through her hair. She's done that about ten times in the last five minutes and it's starting to look like several birds have taken nest inside it. 'Isn't this bad relationship etiquette or some crap like that? Rushing from one thing to the next?'

'I don't think there's any hard and fast rule about these kinds of things,' you told her. 'But it doesn't matter, anyway. We don't _have_ to rush anything.'

'Yeah, you _say_ that, but it's kind of different knowing you have feelings for me…' She laughed, presumably at the look on your face. 'I don't mean that in a bad way. But you can't honestly tell me that you're not happy I'm breaking up with him, because it means there's a chance you and _I_ can get together.'

'I just want to see you happy. I don't care who that's with.'

She rolled her eyes. 'You can drop the fake impartial act,' she said severely. 'I'm not stupid; I know you've been holding back. Just tell me how you _really_ feel.' That's Beca all over. She'd never believe you had anything besides an ulterior motive for helping her sort through her feelings in this issue.

You heard her breath stutter in surprise as you suddenly moved closer to her, so your sides pressed together; you took a chance and turned her face towards yours. 'I can't,' you said, and she snorted derisively. 'No, listen. I really can't tell you what to do. But what I will say is that _you_ kissed _me_ ,' you tell her gently. ' _Twice_. You're impulsive, but I don't think you're the type to throw something away over nothing. So… Maybe it's worth thinking about it from that angle?'

'What angle?'

'That you probably wouldn't have done that if you were completely happy with him.'

She sagged against you, making an annoyed sound. 'I know you're right,' she muttered, her warm breath somehow chilling where it meets your collarbone. 'But I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of S-C-A-R-E-D about what's going to happen next.'

'Does spelling it out make you feel it less?' you asked, smiling as you slip an arm around her shoulders. Maybe you shouldn't be enjoying the physical contact as much as you are, considering you're trying to convince Beca that you have no vested interest in her decision - but a little smelling of her hair couldn't hurt, surely.

It's totally not creepy.

'I hope so.'

'Why are you sc- sorry, S-C-A-R-E-D?'

As she listed her reasons, you thought about how you were scared too. For different reasons, of course, which you knew because she whispered exactly that to you in a halting, breaking voice. For her, there's breaking up with Jesse; there's actually _doing_ this with you, even if she wants to talk it slowly; there was coming out to her family, and the Bellas, and God, what if the Bellas going to become known as some weird lesbian recruitment thing?

And then there was –

'The future,' said Beca feverishly. 'Whatever the hell that is. I don't even know what if I'm going to eat cereal or toast for breakfast in the morning; how can I know if I'm making the right decisions now? How do I know that I won't seriously regret this later?'

She didn't quite reach out to you for comfort, but her hand sort of flailed haphazardly in the vicinity of your face. You caught it, and linked your fingers with her. 'I don't think anyone can know that. You just have to try and hope for the best.'

Beca sighed. 'That sucks. Being an adult sucks. Maturity sucks. Can't I just curl up with a blanket and have a nap until this all blows over?'

'Isn't that pretty much your go-to reaction to things anyway?'

'Wow, rude,' she said, shoving you. 'Hey, what are _you_ doing after this?'

You frowned in confusion. 'I was hoping to go to bed -'

'No,' Beca interrupted. 'I mean – after all _this_. Are you graduating, finally? Where are you going after that, if you are?'

You hesitated. You've had this conversation several times over the years. By the end, Beca had simply stopped asking, whether because she wasn't interested anymore, or because she was tired of hearing the same answer. 'I'm… not sure,' you reply carefully. 'I mean, someone needs to look after the Bellas, right?' Her face clouds over, and you couldn't help but think you've disappointed her yet again. So you added, 'But - who knows, really? I'm open to new experiences.'

She nodded, her mouth forming a tight line. 'And if something… non-Bellas related came up? Would you be open to that?'

Your heart started beating double time, wondering if she was getting at what you thought she was. You weren't even sure how you would react if that were truly the case.

'... What are you suggesting?'

But she just shook her head.

'Nothing. Just wondering.'

* * *

Back in the present, Beca has been huddled into a ball for the last ten minutes or so, glaring at her phone as though daring it to ring. Any attempt at further conversation has been rebuffed, but when the doorbell finally rings, Beca freezes up immediately, leaping up onto all fours with all the anxious energy of a dog who's just heard the mailman come. You almost think she might start barking out the window at Jesse.

The look she gives you is panicked and pleading. You know what she wants you to do.

'I'll get it,' you say, standing up and placing a gentle hand on her back. The muscles are tense under your fingers. 'I'll send him up here. Is that okay?'

Beca's too wound up to do much more than nod.

When you head downstairs, you realise to your horror that Stacie and Lilly have made it to the door before you – possibly two of the worst people to intercept Jesse before you. Except for Amy. And Cynthia Rose. And probably Emily, too. Everyone in the damn Bellas house except for you is a liability now, including Beca herself.

'Mmm, but I'm not _really_ into being tied up – although I don't mind doing that to other people,' you hear Stacie say, followed by a murmured comment from Lilly about liking that as well. Poor Jesse looks positively terrified, and you can't help but take pity on him considering what is coming his way soon.

'Guys,' you say sharply, striding into the hallway, ' _Code Red._ This is not a drill.' Their eyes widen, but it does its job: they quickly scatter. It'll take them at least ten minutes to find out you were lying, by which time hopefully you will have got him upstairs safely.

'Code Red?' asks Jesse, stepping over the threshold gratefully after you've cleared the way. 'What's that, you guys are out of tampons?'

'Wow, sexist,' you say sternly, putting one hand on your hip. '… But, yes.'

He forces out a chuckle, but you can plainly see his mind is not on the conversation at hand. You yourself can't meet his eyes: you have nothing to fear from him, of course, but you worry he might read something from you all the same. 'Everything okay?' you ask uncomfortably.

'I'm not sure, Beca told me to drop everything and come over. What does she want?' he says, nodding up to the ceiling. You are not particularly surprised that he'd assume you know what's going on, but it's not up to you to tell him. Neither can you bring yourself to hint that all might not be well.

'I'm not entirely sure, but I'm sure it'll be fine,' you say, hoping the lie isn't too obvious.

'Well…' He kicks off his shoes and places them next to Beca's Converse on the shoe rack. It's such a habitual action you're not even sure he's aware of doing it; you feel a twinge in your gut at all the tiny routines he's built up with Beca over the years that you could never be a part of. 'Maybe not. You see, I don't exactly have good news for her either.'

Your heart drops in worry, to be shortly replaced by anger. What has he done? Has he fallen for someone else? Slept with someone else? Gotten them pregnant? If he's hurt Beca, you just might kill him.

Yeah, so maybe you're a little hypocritical. But you're also a lot protective.

'What is it?' you ask, keeping your tone cautious but not giving away your distrust of him. 'Or would you rather not tell me?'

Jesse scrutinizes you carefully for a few moments, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He sighs, mussing up his hair in a very Beca-like way. 'You're not really who I should be talking to about this, but…'

'Jesse,' you say, voice dropping low along with your brow over your eyes, 'if you hurt her, I _swear_...'

He holds up his hands, stopping you. 'Whoa. I'm not trying to hurt her - in fact, I'm hoping this'll bring us closer together.' If he reads the panic on your face - knowing what you do about what lies ahead of him - he doesn't say a word about it. Instead, he smiles. 'You're so protective of her. Maybe I _should_ run this all past someone about this other than Benj. I know we're not really friends, but I think we both have Beca's interests in heart, right?'

Jesse seems to know exactly the right buttons to make you feel extremely guilty, without even knowing. '... Right.'

You wait, but not for long. He's not like Beca: he can't hold things back, and nor does he want to. A massive grin appears on his face and the words start flooding out.

Despite how happy he is, the reality is much worse than you'd imagined.

'I might be going to L.A.,' he blurts out, tripping over the syllables in his haste to get them out. 'I've made some contacts who think there might be something out there for me. We've still got plenty of time to think about it, and obviously I'd be graduating first. But I don't want to tell her until I'm sure, so we can start making plans together about how we're going to move out there and make it work, because I don't think either of us is down for long distance… And you're making a weird face, why are you doing that?'

You gulp and try to force your features into something more neutral, having not even realised you were showing any sort of emotion. You always thought Beca - and Aubrey, when she wants to - could read you due to your closeness, but you may need to evaluate how on display your emotions are when you're upset.

'You don't think she's going to respond well, do you.'

You lick your lips nervously, seriously regretting your decision to answer the door for Beca. Hopefully, you look over your shoulder in case Beca has decided to make her appearance already, but no. 'I'm not sure. She should be the one telling you that.'

'I know,' he replies, shaking his head. 'And I _have_ tried. But every time I try to open up discussion about the future or what we're going to do after graduation, she doesn't want to talk about it. It used to be the only thing she _would_ talk about, but now…'

Jesse trails off helplessly, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head. For some reason, even though you've been jealous of Jesse for so long, it hurts seeing him hurt too. Maybe it's because you know how you'd be feeling – how you _are_ feeling – about the prospect of losing Beca too.

'She's upstairs,' you tell him quietly.

He nods. 'Thanks.'

As Jesse puts one foot on the staircase, about to make his way up, you know you have to say something - and you hate it. Because if Beca hears what Jesse has to say about moving to L.A. and starting a new life with Beca, you're fairly certain that it's going to change everything.

Because what do _you_ have to offer her, really? You don't even have a degree yet after years at the same college. You're swimming in debt, can hardly keep down a job, and the one thing you're supposed to be good at - music, and acapella - is falling apart around your ears.

Beca wants a future. Someone to go to L.A. with. Someone to build her up and help her branch out, not drag her back down.

You can't offer her anything remotely close.

'Jesse…' You say, stopping him. He pauses, looking back at you with a quizzical expression. 'Beca has her own stuff to talk to you about, but if I can give you one bit of advice – it's that you should tell her _your_ news first.'

He squints at you suspiciously. 'Okay. Why, again?'

'I have some idea what she wants to talk to you about, and I think it might change if she hears what you have to tell her. She's going to hate me for telling you that but…' You bite your lip. 'Good luck. You have a lot to cover.'

You can practically see the cogs turning in Jesse's head, and know he's arrived at the right conclusion when the corners of his eternally smiley mouth finally turn down. 'Thanks, Chloe,' he mumbles, and gives you a stiff nod as he leaves, shoulders tight and fists curled into balls at his sides.

Meanwhile, you sink back against the wall and close your eyes, suddenly knowing why Beca found it so difficult to talk to him before now.

* * *

There's an argument, which doesn't surprise you – but it's also loud and long, which does. You can't hear distinct words from Beca, only her voice getting more and more shrill and Jesse's rumbling low tones as the night goes on. Part of you wonders if you made the right choice, or if you should be intervening, but you don't want to make it worse for Beca.

Honestly you'd expected them to make up within ten minutes of Jesse telling Beca what's going on, but of course Beca will never make anything easy for herself. You'd be lying if you said that it didn't insert a little bit of hope into your heart, which had been gradually deflating ever since you sent Jesse upstairs.

Emily creeps into your room after an hour of this. 'What's going on up there? Should we be calling the cops?'

She looks so worried you invite her in, even though really you just want to cry on Skype to Aubrey. 'Beca and her boyfriend are arguing.'

Emily's face scrunches in confusion. 'Her boyfriend? But I thought _you_ and Beca - ?'

Emily seems to read the entire story from your lack of response and the way you won't meet her eyes, and in seconds she's sitting by your side on the bed and slipping an arm around your shoulders. It'll be okay; she's never had a relationship, Emily tells you earnestly, but her parents argue sometimes and they always make up in the end. Beca will come around, and you guys will be happy eventually.

'You make each other smile too much for you _not_ to be happy in the end,' Emily promises you, squeezing your hand.

You're not so sure, especially when just about the only word you can truly make out in their yells is _your_ name.

* * *

Beca doesn't come to you afterwards, which is probably a good thing since the rest of the Bellas ended up in your room too, silently wincing at every cry like scared children waiting for their parents to stop arguing. It's an apt metaphor: Jesse has been a fairly constant fixture in all of your lives, if not directly. It's always been Beca-and-Jesse (when it wasn't Beca-and-Chloe). His connection to Beca meant you could count on the Trebles' help in anything acapella related after Bumper left, since they were mainly just happy to see one of their own get so far. You're the one that rocked the boat, and you're terrified the other Bellas know it was you that caused all this.

Early in the morning, having disentangled yourself from between Cynthia Rose and Stacie, you find her passed out at the island in the kitchen with her headphones on and a mix still playing on her laptop. You gently remove them from her head and place them over your own ears: you don't recognise any of the music and it takes you a moment to realise the voice singing is Beca's. It's an original, something you've never seen her do in all the years you've known her.

You're so wrapped up listening to the mix - as you always are, because Beca's music just _does_ something to you no matter what it is - you don't even notice Beca stirring until it's too late and she's snatched the headphones off you, with enough force that they clatter to the floor.

' _Don't_ ,' she hisses.

The wild anger visible in her eyes frightens you; you take a step back. 'I- I'm sorry…'

Beca's eyes narrow as she reaches down for the headphones, fumbling to pick them back up. Her hands are shaking. 'Don't listen to this,' she says harshly, gesturing to her screen. 'It's fucking awful.'

'It didn't sound that way to me.' She just rolls her eyes. 'Was that original?' you ask tentatively.

A vein is pulsing in her forehead, and you expect her to snap again. Instead she just turns away from you, breathing hard. 'No,' she says, teeth gritted. 'Still not got an original bone in my body, apparently.' She runs her fingers over the cord of the headphones, twisting them around her fingers until you're afraid the wire might snap. 'Maybe that's a good thing. L.A. is starting to sound like a shitty idea anyway.'

You seat yourself opposite her at the island, and she doesn't stop you. You had been tempted to sit on the stool next to her but thought that may push it too much.

'I take it Jesse told you, then.'

'Of _course_ he fucking told me,' Beca says, nostrils flaring. 'It was like the first thing he said to me. What were you thinking, Chloe? You knew I was going to break up with him, and how that would just make it worse. _How c_ ould you do that?'

Your mouth dry, you stammer, 'I-I thought I was doing the right thing.'

'Well you thought wrong. Do you have any idea how hard it was to tell him I want to break up after he's told me all about the plans he was making for the future? For _our_ future?' she chokes out. 'He begged me to stay with him, Chloe. Like, literally begged. And I didn't know what to say.'

'So does that mean you're... still together?'

You know you shouldn't be hoping for a specific answer, but all the same the idea of having to watch them run off into the L.A. sunset together - leaving you behind - makes you feel physically ill. You know how transparent the question is as well, and so does Beca evidently, from the way she laughs darkly in response.

'Nope,' Beca says, popping the "p" with an air of sarcastic finality. 'I had to turn him down. We split up: Jesse and I are done. Finished. Woo, yay, fucking celebration time.' She smiles sardonically, though you can plainly see she's on the edge of tears. 'So now you and I can be happy together, right? All gal pals and lesbifriends?'

You don't understand what she wants you to say:how are you meant to feel about them breaking up? Are you not allowed to show the slightest bit of emotion about it?

You go with, 'It's not that easy.'

'No? You made it sound like it was.'

'It isn't. None of this is.'

'Well, I dunno about that. There's _one_ part of this that is easy.' At your confused frown, her fingers separate sharply, pulling the cord taut. 'Wanting you,' she says, almost talking to herself at this point, 'was easy. _Is_ easy. It's everything else that comes after that's the problem – and of course, it's the "everything else" that I fucking want.'

She slams her headphones down on the island. Luckily, nothing breaks, but Beca seems confused and disorientated by her own actions.

'I did it,' she says distantly, voice tremulous and so pained you feel like every emotion passing over her face right now is travelling straight to you. 'I'm single, now.'

A beat, then –

'Oh, _fuck_ , I'm single.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks so much for your patience and sweet messages guys – things are a lot better now but it was nice hearing you guys say I should look after myself first. I didn't expect JLG to get this drawn out (I'd hoped to finish it in like 2-3 weeks haha), but I suppose life happens, huh?**

* * *

You hate lying of all kinds, but the type that really gets to you are the blatant ones. The bold-faced, outright statements that have no apparent leeway, like 'I have no idea what you're talking about', 'No, I didn't eat the last cookie', or 'I know you have a crush on me, sorry I can't return the favour'.

This is a quality that has led you to trouble at times. The one that stands out most to you is when all your friends at school were trying cigarettes for the first time and your mom smelt it from your clothing. You'd spent all day trying to think of a convincing story to tell. Yet one look into your eyes and a significantly raised eyebrow from your mother, and the next thing you and all your friends were grounded. No one talked to you for a month after that, and you realised how wrong lying feels in your mouth: it always left you with a tart, bitter taste that reminds you of cigarettes. Which is probably why they always knew you were lying. They could read it from the pained expression on your face.

You used to think this was evidence of your high moral standards – and would proudly proclaim to any poor soul that happened to stumble upon your Twitter feed that you are 'brutally honest #takemeorleaveme'. Over time, however, it has become evident that the real issue is having no idea _how_ to lie; and that when you are forced into telling a lie, things fall apart very quickly. Faced with that, honesty is surely the best policy, if only because you can't handle doing anything else. Recent events have only cemented this idea in your mind: your one shoddy attempt at lying to Beca's face has led you to this situation.

('I was just kidding.' … 'No, I'm not jealous.')

Somehow, though, you had thought having everything out in the open and being honest with Beca would make everything fall into place. If you laid everything out on the table, then it was up to Beca what happened next - if she wanted to be with you then she would be, and if not, well, at least you tried. It hadn't occurred to you what kind of position you would be putting Beca in by revealing your feelings. Granted, to your relief (and if you're honest, surprise), actually talking to Beca about this issue _has_ improved the situation a tiny bit: she doesn't try and pretend nothing happened between the two of you. However, in the grand scheme of things, this means nothing. Beca's single now, but you know you can't just jump right into it immediately or you risk ruining everything you've been carefully building for the last few years.

Even though you _want_ to. You desperately want to.

But inn practice, you know the feelings have to (temporarily? You hope so) go back in the vault, locked away as best you can. Maybe hiding yourself away like this seems cowardly to some, but to you it's all about timing and choosing your battles. It's not a dismissal of the truth, just a lack of admission in the first place, which is not the same. You don't have to worry about how to phrase things to hide how you really feel.

Instead, you just don't say anything at all.

'Why are you looking at me like that?'

You startle, snapping back to the real world with a rude, sudden awakening.

'Oh – nothing, sorry,' you say, quickly dropping your gaze back down to your face.' Just zoning out.'

Lie - or lack of admission - #1. It's blatantly obvious you've just been staring at Beca's face for the last five minutes while she rambles about the mix she's working on at the moment (you're ashamed to say you don't even know what tracks she's using) and thinking about how soft her skin would feel under your fingers. Then realising that's not even a hypothetical – you've felt Beca's face before. You _know_ it's soft. You know how her cheek feels beneath your palm, and what it's like to have your fingers resting over the curve of her face. And then you might lean in and just...

But no, you're definitely not thinking about _that_. These sorts of thought processes have always been pretty normal for you (of course it's normal to think about touching your friends' faces, don't be silly) but lately it's just been getting more and more ridiculous. It's almost as though this drama with Beca has just opened up a floodgate inside you; while before you could easily have shoved your feelings back into the darkest recesses of your body, now it won't stop rushing out and carrying you away in the tide.

Beca makes a half-smiling, half-grimacing expression, having caught onto your not-lie immediately. 'Jesus, really?' she says with a sigh, sitting back in her chair. 'How did it take me so long to realise you were into me, exactly?'

You clear your throat in what you hope is a casual, definitely-not-ogling-my-friends manner. 'I have no idea what you mean.'

'Really? You were just looking at me like this.' She demonstrates with her fist pressed to the bottom of her chin, fluttering her eyelashes over at you. It's exaggerated, but probably not that far from the truth, so you flush.

'I'm sorry.'

See - even when you're not lying, your face gives you away immediately.

'It's fine, dude,' Beca says, laughing. 'Kinda flattering, actually. At least I know being single hasn't suddenly turned me into some repulsive creature.'

'Definitely not,' you agree, perhaps just a little too enthusiastically. Despite Beca's smile, you worry about lingering on this subject so quickly change it. 'We haven't done this in a while, huh? Just the two of us, hanging out.' Beca slurps up the last of her drink through the straw with an unattractively wet noise, smirking when you roll your eyes. 'Although I'm starting to rethink whether this was a good idea if you're gonna be doing _that_ all day.' Just to annoy you, she does it again, but louder, then sprays you in the face with the remnants of the liquid. You splutter, 'Oh my God! What the hell, Beca?'

She snickers. 'You always act like you're so chill, but man, you're so highly strung sometimes, Chlo. You spend too much time with Aubrey. Lighten up.'

'It's a little ironic you're telling _me_ to lighten up when coming out was meant to be about cheering you up,' you say wryly. 'Still, you seem like you're doing better?'

You mean it to be a statement but uncertainty turns your inflection upwards at the last moment, because although you consider yourself fairly good at reading Beca, the girl's poker face is just too good. It's just as well Cynthia Rose kicked her gambling habit, because Beca could completely give her a run for her money. Beca chews slowly on the tip of her straw for a few moments – you brace yourself for another squirt in the face but none comes - then lifts one shoulder and drops it. 'Is it weird to say, "I have no idea"? I feel like I should be sad, or angry, or heck, even happy. But I don't know _what_ I'm feeling right now.'

'It's not weird,' you reply. 'Everyone deals with these things in different ways. When I broke up with my first boyfriend, my friends and I made voodoo dolls and tried to put a curse on him.'

'Did it work?'

'Nope. Although Skippy, the class guinea pig, peed on him the next day and ruined his shirt so maybe it did have some effect.'

She snorts loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons in the restaurant. You just about hide your pleased grin in your hand, because making Beca laugh is one of your favourite hobbies. 'Wow, remind me not to piss you off. I don't wanna get peed on.'

'I wouldn't curse you,' you promise, 'just the voodoo dolls would be enough.'

'Oh, 'cause anything more would be weird, right?'

'Absolutely.'

You've missed this, the casual back and forth between the two of you. You're sorry that Beca – and you, maybe – had to go through so much just to get it back. But things seem to be on the up and up, and even though you're having to pull back a little bit just to make sure you're not pressuring Beca post-breakup, it's worth it if you can just get this back. Beca seems to be thinking the same thing, because her smile slips a little and she pushes a hand through her hair - that obvious tell that she's nervous about saying something.

'You know…' Beca clears her throat, gaze dropping to the table and tracing her finger in the small puddle of moisture left by her drink. 'You're being really awesome about all this. Considering… everything. I should probably thank you, actually, because you've been pretty good at being there for me since I broke up with Jesse. Kinda means a lot.'

Lie #2: your heart is _totally_ not going crazy right now. But this is a good lie to keep a secret; if you expressed to her just how touched you are by her words, she would probably vault right over the table and out the door. 'You don't have to thank me, Bec,' you say gently, tone oh-so casual. You are the pinnacle of casualness right now.'I mean, what are friends for?'

The look she gives you is amused, and you can't work out why she would respond in such a way until she says, 'Oh my God, you really are _so_ unsubtle.'

'What? Why?!'

'You're being all "what are friends for?"' she mimics your voice, and her impression isn't particularly flattering. It is _not_ that high or squeaky. Usually. 'But I don't see Amy or Stacie or Cynthia Rose doing half the shit you've done for me in the last few weeks.'

'They would, but I get there first,' you insist, even though she's right, and you know exactly what she's referring to. Perhaps constantly fussing over Beca and always being on hand with ice cream and hugs is not the _most_ platonically motivated thing you've ever done. 'And I am the best friend in the world, thank you very much, so I don't know what you're implying.'

'I'm just saying. You don't have to pretend,' she says, and suddenly she sounds a little sad. 'I know damn well you wouldn't do these things if you didn't have feelings for me.'

You aren't entirely sure why such a thing would upset her, but it seems to be so your best course of action is to reassure her. 'I would. Maybe not quite as enthusiastically,' you add, when she seems skeptical, 'but I _am_ your friend, Beca, first and foremost. And that's always gonna be the case. I'll always be there for you.'

Her brow knits slightly – whether it's in further scepticism, or thoughtfulness, you're not sure. 'Really?'

'Of _course_. It's what I do - ow!' You wince as the toe of her shoe suddenly collides with your shin. 'Beca, why did you just kick me?!'

'Sorry!' Beca looks mortified. 'Shit. That was supposed to be smooth.'

Rubbing your shin, you shake your head at Beca. 'Wow. Can you try and be smooth in a way that doesn't leave bruises on me?'

'What, you _don't_ like it when I kick you?' deadpans Beca. 'Ugh, _fine_. Here.'

She reaches across the table, seizing your hand with no finesse whatsoever; yet your hand still feels like you dumped it into a tank of hot water. Mostly because, 'You're sweating,' you note, before you can think that one through.

'Jesus Christ!'

She tries to retract her hand but you hold on, linking your fingers together in one well practised motion. You're pretty proud of it. 'You started this,' you tell her, raising your eyebrows. 'You might as well finish it.'

'Chloe, you are seriously the worst,' she complains; but all the same, she doesn't let go.

* * *

' _Someone's_ happy,' Stacie says from behind you, pressing against your back so she can reach above your head and retrieve a bowl. This kind of touchy-feeliness par for the course when dealing with Stacie, so you hardly blink an eye. You're both cuddly people in a house full of people who shrink away at the thought of human contact; you need to get your cuddle fix somewhere, and both of you know that's all it is. Although, occasionally Cynthia Rose will stare with raised brows if you happen to be huddled together on the couch, and Beca will make jokes about the two of you getting a room. You see both their faces fall when they think you're not looking. 'Is it anything to do with the little date thing you had with Beca earlier?'

You rip open the popcorn and empty the contents into the bowl Stacie has helpfully provided you. 'Don't let her hear you call it a date, she'll freak out,' you reply in amusement. 'We just went to get food together.'

'But it _was_ a date, right?' You shrug in a non-committal manner, chuckling when Stacie gives you a very exaggerated wink. 'Just what I thought.'

'Stacie, you're seriously the worst. You have to stop trying to match-make people. It never ends well.'

Stacie reaches past you, stealing a piece of popcorn and putting it in her mouth. 'But it's so entertaining,' she whines, in between munching. 'Like my very own live soap opera. Sometimes I want to bang your heads together because you're so dumb sometimes, but then it wouldn't be as fun to watch.'

'What, banging, what?' Amy breezes into the kitchen. She makes a bee-line straight for the popcorn, as both she and Stacie take another handful. 'Chloe, are you and Beca doing the horizontal tango already?'

'Hands _off_ , guys,' you say, picking up the bowl protectively and backing away a few steps. 'At least save a little for the movie. And no, we're not, thanks.'

'That's a shame. When you do, keep it in your room,' Amy replies. 'I don't need to hear you guys moaning about cats and politics or whatever it is you lezzies do.'

You decide not to bother correcting her on your orientation. 'Where _is_ Beca? I haven't seen her since we got home.'

'She's out. She said she was working on _ahhh_...' You probably wouldn't have even noticed Amy had trailed off at the end there until she started making weird noises, but those familiar sounds of uncertainty - because Amy is just as bad at lying as you are - make you look up.

'Amy…' You frown, shutting the cupboard door, which Stacie helpfully left open, as is her habit. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing!' says Amy, smiling a little too brightly at you to be real. 'I was just yawning. And saying nothing potentially incriminating about Beca or her whereabouts over the last few months at all.' In the ensuing silence where both you and Stacie exchange confused looks, she lunges forward to steal more more popcorn and escapes the room in quickly escaping the room in that ninja-like way that Amy has.

'Subtle as a fork in the eye, that one,' says Stacie, shaking her head.

'I know the feeling.'

Stacie smiles at you. 'Ready for movie night?'

As Stacie loops her arm over yours and leads chattering about a cute T.A. in one of her classes, you feel a sudden pang of… something, deep in your stomach. It makes you swallow; it makes you stumble. At first you think it's something you ate, or some shark week type thing, but it's not that kind of pain. Next you worry it's a reaction to Stacie, because wouldn't _that_ be a plot twist?

But no; it's neither of those things. You can't put your finger on what it really is, only that it feels like your stomach is curling up on in on itself. It makes you want to do the same thing – to put your head in your hands until it disappears.

It's only later, when you're halfway through the movie that you realise it was sadness that you were feeling. Because soon enough you will never have a night like this with these girls, in this house, ever again. The thought makes you lean against Stacie a little more, nudge Ashley with your foot and smile over at Emily. Trying to hold onto these moments for as long as you can; to communicate with your eyes just how much you love these girls. They love you too. You know that. But Stacie doesn't roll her eyes (yet also never moves away) when you put your head on her shoulder. And Ashley pretends to bite your ankles rather than squawking indignantly and making some sarcastic joke at you.

And Emily…

She doesn't smile like Beca.

No one does.

So who are you _really_ going to miss?

* * *

You jerk awake sometime later – you're not sure exactly how much time has passed, but it's now dark and the girls haven't bothered to turn the light on – when Stacie starts poking you in the face.

'Beca's home,' she murmurs to you. 'She looked upset. You should go comfort her.'

'Wait,' you say stupidly as you rise to your feet, still foggy-brained from sleep, 'why me?'

The Bellas, as one, give you a collective _what the fuck_ expression. Even Emily, who comparatively hasn't been with the girls long, seems to have mastered this expression somewhere along the line. Stacie throws one of the unpopped kernels of popcorn at you, catching you right in the middle of the forehead. 'Duh, who else would it be?'

'Yeah, none of us can comfort her like you do, Red,' says Amy. 'And by comfort, we mean have sex with.'

'Use protection!' snarks Cynthia Rose.

'I hope Beca feels better soon,' adds Emily.

Their laughs and comments follow you as you shuffle tiredly out the room. You realise this drama between you and Beca is probably the most excitement that has occurred in the Bellas house for years, but also have known them long enough to see that this is their way of supporting you guys. Their support is wrapped up in sarcastic comments, but it's still there, like a comforting blanket.

You trudge upstairs to Beca's room - already you can hear the faint strains of The Breakfast Club soundtrack, so you think you have some idea of what's going on. You attribute this music as the reason for her not hearing your heavy-footed approach up the stairs, because you happen to walk in at precisely the wrong second.

It's not the first time you've walked in on Beca during a private moment (and vice versa, prominently including one time in your second go at senior year that Beca insists you _never_ talk about). You've never really cared, but somehow this seems blows all the others out of the water. She's on her back, wrapped in her comforter and one arm half covering her face, hand tangled in her hair. For a second you think you've interrupted some _other_ kind of moment, akin to The Incident That Shall Not Be Named, but then you realise Beca's not doing _that_ , she's sobbing.

Hard. Openly. You've never heard her sound so anguished.

The sound rips straight through you. It startles you enough - because you almost never see her cry openly and without restraint - that you totally forget who you're dealing with. 'Oh my God, are you crying?' you blurt out; immediately, you cringe, because that is _not_ the way to help Beca when she's feeling like this. Direct questions like that will only make her walls go shooting up. You're already getting ready to bolt down the staircase in case she starts throwing things at you.

To your surprise, however, Beca doesn't even jump at your outburst. She just turns her head slowly, and blinks once, then twice, not even making an attempt at hiding the wetness still lingering on her cheeks. 'Oh, it's you,' she says, with a strangled chuckle. 'Thought you were Amy. And yep, I am - wow, you caught me showing emotion for once.'

Beca's voice barely wavers, even though tears are still pouring and her breath is stuttering and ragged.

'Oh.'

You're stumped: normally Beca would deny she's crying at any costs, even when she's using your shoulder as a tissue. Unused to dealing with this situation, you're not quite sure what level of comfort is required; your usual method of gently comforting Beca while simultaneously trying to completely ignore the fact that she's upset may not cut it.

She exhales with a roll of her eyes; her arm goes limp, falling to her side. She hiccups. 'Did you come up here for a reason?'

'Yes,' you reply, without thinking – the only reason you came up is because you were told Beca was upset, but you figure she won't want to hear that. 'It's Movie Night. We're probably gonna watch another downstairs if you want to join us?'

Beca's shaking her head before you've even finished the sentence. 'Nah, that's okay. Not sure I can deal with everyone right now.'

'Sure.' You're almost relieved, if a little disappointed that you can't be the one to comfort her: Beca needs space and for once she's actually said that rather than you trying to work out what she really wants you to do. You turn to leave, but for some reason just before you go, Beca asks you to wait. You stop with your foot almost on the second step, confused. 'Huh?'

She huffs out a breath, wiping her face ineffectually with the back of her wrist. 'Jesus, do I have to spell it out all the time?' she says, not quite snapping but definitely terse. ' _You're_ not everyone.'

It takes a moment; then it clicks.

'Oh _!_ You actually want me to stay?' You don't mean to sound so over-enthusiastic, but it's rare to a) see Beca in this sort of state and b) have her actually ask you to stay. You're not saying you bound over to her bed, but there's at least a little spring in your step as you plop yourself down on the edge.

Beca rolls over, still wrapped and tangled in her comforter. 'I'm all weird,' she groans. 'I can't stop crying.'

She really can't. 'Should I steal one of Amy's shirts so you can wipe your face on it?'

You're hoping to make her laugh, and thankfully, it works. 'Well, turns out she's been stealing money from me on the regular, so maybe that's the least she deserves.'

You gasp. 'What a B word. Don't worry, I'll go find that sparkly pink one she wears all the time.'

'I think that's the one she wore the other night to go see Bumper,' Beca replies, nose wrinkling.

'Oh, yeah, you probably don't wanna put your nose in that. That sex stank – gross.' You shiver exaggeratedly, and are rewarded when Beca does that cute eye-rolling-smile thing she does when she wants to grin fully and openly but hasn't quite let go enough to do so.

'God, you are _such_ an idiot.'

'As long as you're smiling, I'm good with that.' You almost reach out to push a strand of hair behind Beca's ear, but think better of it at the last moment so it turns into a strange jerky moment. You know your intentions were transparent when she snorts lightly and bumps her knuckles against your thigh.

'Nerd.'

'How are you feeling?'

Beca makes a weird jerking movement with her shoulders that you can just about read as a shrug. 'I don't know,' she says. 'I mean, I _thought_ I was okay.'

'And you're not?'

'Nope,' she says, with a rueful smile. 'But I seriously thought I was. I didn't feel very much at all at first, and I'm like, well, this is easier than I thought it'd be. And then it all just kind of hit me - I was just screwing around with some music, and suddenly I'm crying into my macchiato and some bitch on the table next to me is giving me a dirty look.'

'Sounds about right.'

'Now I'm all gross and doing that cliché crying listening to music thing. I have become what I hate.'

'Clichés are clichés for a reason.'

'And you know what the weird part is, I feel _relieved_ , but also really freaking sad at the same time. And I realise that makes no sense, so like, don't even.'

'It makes perfect sense to me.'

'I've never had a relationship last this long. Lame as that is. Kinda sucks that it's gone now, even if that's what I wanted to happen.'

'I don't think that's lame at all,' you tell her gently.

She groans, burying her face in her pillow. 'Stop being nice; it's weird and confusing and making me say all kinds of awful crap. It's not fair how I'm always the gibbering mess of the two of us - how do you always do that?'

'That's _so_ not true,' you say. 'You know you drive me crazy, in every possible way.'

You don't mean for your voice to get so low and hoarse as you say that, but it seems inevitable. You can hear Beca swallow in the silence following, as the tension shoots up a notch in only a moment. Suddenly, you ache to touch her. You know you shouldn't – she _just_ broke up with Jesse for God's sake, she needs time and space to recover before you jump into anything – but it doesn't stop you wanting. Apparently Jesse was the last thing stopping you from acting like a complete and utter lunatic.

Against your better judgement, you raise your hand to cup her face, feeling the heat of her cheek beneath your palm; her breath quickens and stings the inside of your wrist when she exhales.

You lean in, just a little.

Beca flinches.

It's only a minute, tiny moment, but you still feel it because every sense is tuned into hers right now. Just enough to derail your thoughts and realise you're being a complete idiot; you move away. And just like that it's awkward again, as Beca knows exactly what you were leaning in for.

'Sorry.'

And of course she's the one apologizing, when you're the one who can't seem to keep control of herself. 'It's fine,' you reply, retracting your hand and your body to a safe distance. 'I'm the one who should be sorry.'

'Is it? Because I know you want...' she trails off, unsure of herself. 'I know what you want but I can't give you that thing quite yet. And wow, most eloquent speaker in the world award, right here.'

'Yes, it is,' you reassure her again, even though your legs feel so shaky you might never walk again. 'I shouldn't have done that. You need Friend Chloe right now, so that's what I should have been giving you.'

'What, you can put it aside that easily?' she says skeptically.

'Not _easily_. But what's the alternative?'

Beca sits up, the comforter pooling in her lap as she rubs her temples. 'This is messed up,' Beca says in frustration. 'Like, I _want_ to, but… Somehow, I still feel guilty. Like I'm betraying him. That's so dumb, we're broken up.'

'It's not been that long. Maybe you just need time.'

'It's not like we have much time _left_ though, is it?' She clenches her jaw and screws up her face for a few moments. 'I don't know how you're dealing with this so calmly, dude. I'd be bouncing off the walls.'

'It's not as though I'm just snapping my fingers and I'm suddenly calm. I'm just… At a loss at what else I could possibly do. And I want to be there for you, so.'

Beca sighs. 'I thought I told you to stop being nice.' She sits there, you for a few moments; and then she leans in, and kisses you on the cheek. 'I know it's not quite the same,' she murmurs, 'but it'll do, I guess. Call it a placeholder kiss. Why are you looking at me like that?'

'Just wasn't expecting it,' you reply, shutting your mouth promptly before you start catching flies or feeling more unexpected affection for Beca. 'You really need to stop kissing me unexpectedly. It really throws off my delicate equilibrium.'

'Alright, next time I'll warn you.'

'Next time?' Your stomach twists (pleasantly, or unpleasantly, it's hard to say) at the thought.

Beca just grins. 'You know, we should really send DSM a fruit basket or some mini muffins as well, because she totally got this whole thing rolling with her sexy German body.' She yelps as you smack her arm, but honestly, she deserved that one. Beca rubs her arm. 'Why do you always resort to violence?'

'Nothing else seems to get through your thick head.'

'You wound me, woman. Literally.' Beca sighs, glancing at the clock on her bedside cabinet. 'If you're done abusing me, you wanna watch a movie up here with me instead? Nothing too long, though, I gotta be up early tomorrow.'

It's a fairly innocuous statement from anyone other than Beca, but considering who you're talking to, you know you can't overlook anything. Beca isn't like you; she keeps her secrets closely guarded. If she were hiding something you'd probably never know. But if she let that slip, does that means she _wants_ you to ask about what's going on with her? Is she trying to tell you something?

You can't help it - you have to probe further.

'Hey, can I ask you something weird?'

She tenses slightly – and you do too, as you suddenly regret opening up this can of worms, worried you misread the signals - but still nods. 'Sure.'

'It's nothing bad,' you assure her. At least, you hope it isn't.

'Just do it already, loser.'

You take a breath, readying yourself, just in case Beca blows up at you just for asking. 'I've just been wondering… Where do you keep going all day? Why are you up early? At first I thought it was for class, except you don't have any on Tuesdays and yet you were gone all day last week.'

Beca's eyebrow hikes up. 'Little creepy, Chlo. Have you memorised my schedule?'

'… Yes. But that's not the point.'

You can see she's strongly considering lying to you. Beca has this specific tell, or at least you think she does: she stares at you just a second too long as she tries to come up with a convincing story, then she realises what she's doing and her gaze skitters away like you might read her thoughts through her eyes.

You put a hand on her leg, intending to be reassuring, but mostly it comes across as a little intimidating or flirty - one or the other. 'You can tell me, whatever it is,' you say. 'I won't judge you.'

'Really?' You don't know how to respond to that, besides feeling a pang of hurt; you thought she could trust you, but apparently not. Beca licks her lips nervously, and scoots so her back is against the wall. 'Okay,' she starts, already sounding glum, 'if you _must_ know…'

'Yes, I must.'

'Shut up. If you must know,' she goes on, 'I've been uh, sending out demos to see if… Well, if anyone wants to take me under their wing and, you know, work with me. Nothing that big, just trying to put my name out there.'

'So you've been…'

'So I've been out of the house trying to meet people and work on my music, make contacts, blah, blah.'

'Oh my God, really?' You sit up too, excited, but also very confused about why she hasn't told you about this already. You almost hit her again in your enthusiasm, but settle for seizing her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. 'Beca! That's so great.'

She smiles humourlessly. 'What, you're not mad at me?'

'Why on Earth would I be mad? Of course I'm not. You're amazing, it's great that you're doing this,' you gush. 'Ugh, I'm _super_ proud of you, Bec.'

You hug her, and she hugs you back but you can feel just from the tight line of her body that she's not all there with you right now; there's something else. 'So I guess that wasan original piece of music you were working on the other day, after all.'

You feel Beca's head move next to yours in a nod, stiff and short. 'It's so bad though, I'm not even sure it can be called "music".'

'I'm sure it's great,' you say, but she just snorts derisively. 'So, have you had any luck yet?'

She goes rigid, yet again. And _now_ you know why she hasn't said anything.

'No.'

You take a breath, mostly because she sounds so small right now and hearing that amount of hurt in her voice goes right through you. 'Oh, Bec…'

'They – no one's really responded,' she says. 'I've shown people, and at first they seemed excited, but then when they realise I only make mashups that any kid with a laptop can do…' You squeeze her, but she twists away. 'Don't worry, it's fine.' Her smile is bitter. 'Better I know now than after putting thousands of hours and way too much money into working on this, right? Oh _wait_ …'

You peck her on the temple, wishing you could kiss her on the shoulder or jaw or somewhere else, but all those options feel a little too intimate right now. 'Keep trying,' you reassure her. 'Something good will come along – you're way too talented to be overlooked for long. And then you'll have something inspirational to put in your autobiography when you're rich and famous. You better put me in the dedication, though,' you add. 'I swear I'll hunt you down in your big fancy mansion.'

She chuckles. 'You act like you wouldn't be around there all the time anyway swimming in my indoor pool and using all my stuff. And anyway, if anyone's gonna get rich and famous it'd gonna be you. Have you looked in the mirror?' It's a surprisingly sweet comment, for Beca, and it catches you off guard. Beca seems to realise this too, and moves on swiftly: 'Or Amy, I suppose, she's completely Hollywood material. She's hilarious.'

'I know, or Stacie. She has the looks for it, but she's too set on being a Math nerd…'

'Number five on my list of things I never expected.'

'They're all gonna do well,' you say. 'I look around at you guys and see how much you've grown and I'm like a proud mama, I swear. Gonna be weird sending my babies out into the real world and watching you all graduate and get married and have babies and stuff.'

You mean it as a joke, but Beca frowns a little. 'What, you still don't think you're gonna graduate this year?'

You consider sidestepping the conversation, but feel that Beca deserves an honest answer. 'I'm not sure.'

'Why? Barden's a craphole, why would you willingly keep coming back?'

'I like Barden, and you guys are my family,' you reply. 'Why would I ever want to give that up?'

'Because there's more to the world than acapella?' Beca's brow has lowered, as has her voice, and she suddenly sounds serious. 'Really, Chlo, you could do anything. Yet for some reason you're still with us all these years later. Honestly, you're wasted at Barden - why the hell are you still here instead of teaching underprivileged children how to sing or something like that?''

You don't want to talk about this, and Beca's fully aware of that. It's not something she usually talks to you seriously about, even though the subject of your continued presence of Barden is something of a running joke among the other girls - mainly that you'll still be around when they have children of their own. To your relief Beca never joins in. However, the very fact she _doesn't_ needle you about it incessantly tells you she disapproves.

'The Bellas are everything to me, Beca,' you reply simply. 'I don't want to leave them.'

'I get that. But…' She chews her bottom lip, considering her wording. Eventually, she says. 'They're leaving _you_. Everyone's moving on, Chloe – we all are. Maybe you should too.'

The words crash down heavily into the pit of your stomach, and there's that feeling again. Sadness. Panic. The impending weight of the future pressing heavily on you.

You _really_ don't want to talk about this.

'It's my decision and I'm happy about it,' you respond tightly.

Lie #3 **.**

'Are you really?'

'Yes. And no offence, Beca, but it doesn't have much to do with you.'

'Really?' She sounds hurt, and you wish she'd just tell you _why_ this bothers her so much. 'That's all you're going to say- that it doesn't have anything to do with me?' When all you can do is nod, her lips become a tight line and she reaches over for her laptop. 'Fine, I'll drop it. Shitty Netflix it is.'

* * *

Maybe that's one lie – or rather, bending of the truth, as that phrasing makes you feel better - you shouldn't have told. Beca seems somehow angry with you for wanting to stay with the Bellas and you can't understand why. When you get the call asking you to perform at an upcoming convention, Beca is the first person you tell. However, the reaction is far from enthused: 'That's great, Chlo,' she says, giving you a thumbs up, but little else.

Great? _Great?_ She should be delirious with happiness, but she isn't, and nor are the other Bellas. Emily is the only one who shows any amount of enthusiasm, and that's only because she's excited to sing live for the first time. You'd always thought you and Beca were in this together, equally focused on making the Bellas the best they could be - and maybe you were in the _past_ , but _now_ …

Now, she might be right that everyone else is moving on. You've been trying to deny that fact for a long time but it's true: they're all leaving, and they all have so much future ahead of them. Degrees, careers, romance; they have a purpose.

What do _you_ have?

The convention performance _has_ to go well. The Bellas _have_ to reclaim their status as world champions.

Because without the Bellas, you are nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Since the BTS and extended scenes have been released (sort of), I've included a few references to them but otherwise adapted them for my own nefarious purposes :)**

 **I've split this chapter into two for narrative purposes, but I'll be uploading the second ASAP. And I really do mean ASAP, as in the next few days (tomorrow if all goes well).**

* * *

In the midst of all this aca-drama, life carries on without Beca. After all, it's not like _everything_ you do is wrapped up in her. For example, there's studying (in your own room, of course; because there's always a small chanceyou might decide to graduate), parties (usually attended with one of the other Bellas - Beca might come too, which you can't help), Netflix (… in Beca's room), arranging and choreographing for Worlds (also with Beca)…

Yes, you _totally_ have a life outside of Beca and the Bellas.

Well, whatever. The one bright spot in your life right now is this performance at a convention. The last few weeks have been a flurry of activity in trying to get ready for it. It's gruelling work trying to come up with a suitable set, and the rest of the Bellas – including you – are pushing through with a kind of grim desperation. If you can pull this one off, it'll be the confidence booster you all need to get through Worlds and claim your title as international champions, you're sure of it.

You're just lucky that you even have anything to perform at the convention today. Beca pulled this arrangement out of the bag surprisingly fast considering you only got the call to perform a little while ago. You might even say that she arranged it too fast, and suspect it might be one she made a while back during her dubstep phase. Not that it really matters, anyway: having the music ready meant more time working on the choreography, which is admittedly the main draw for this event. Maybe that's bad considering it's _acapella_ but whatever - you and the Bellas could put together a beautiful arrangement with earplugs in and blindfolds on. In any case, DSM are all about showmanship and pushing the music into a full scale performance. So you need to be too.

Still, you're totes confident. Short of the kitchen sink, there is probably no possible addition you could make to this performance. Some would say that it's too different from "tradition" (you can clearly imagine the scandalised faces of Bellas past, and avert your eyes in shame every time you walk past their framed photos), but you'd argue that playing by other people's rules has never been the Bellas game. Some other highly annoying, argumentative people might point out that this one is a little more – well, _risqué_ than your previous performances; you would snap back that you're playing to your strengths. For God's sake, you sing all day with some seriously attractive women: it would just be irresponsible to not capitalise on that. So no one can fault you for making Beca sing _that_ line with you.

Except Beca herself, perhaps.

('Really, Chlo? Really?'

'Yes, really. It makes sense from a choreographical standpoint,' you'd argued.

It didn't. You had no idea what you were saying, only that you were crossing your fingers behind your back and hoping Beca didn't protest too much, because you would probably give in.

However, all Beca did was sigh and cram the sheet music haphazardly into her pocket. 'At least it's not Titanium.'

Touché.)

'Showtime,' you murmur to the girls, wiping your sweaty hands on your gold pants. The Bellas start to file out, each showing their pre-show nerves in different ways. Emily's mumbling to herself, half-singing and half-dancing to remind herself of the steps; Stacie's face goes completely blank as she gets into her musical "zone"; Jessica and Ashley are clasping hands and whispering to each other. As Beca passes you (impassive as ever, even though you know she's probably hiding nerves too) an idea hits.

Maybe there's _one_ thing you can add to this performance.

'Beca, hang on.' She turns, her indulgent smile already in place because she just knows you're going to fuss about something or other. That's just how _you_ deal with pre-show nerves: everything has to be perfect. With a quick flick of your wrist and a tug of a zipper, Beca's look and your chances of pulling this out of the bag are immeasurably improved.

Beca blinks, and then examines her new amount of cleavage with one critical eyebrow raised. 'Huh. Is this for you or the audience?'

'The audience. Duh.' She's not buying it. '… Alright, and a tiny bit for me as well.'

Beca snorts. 'Of course. I shouldn't have expected anything else. Are you okay? You seem pretty on edge,' she asks suddenly; the question is a little jarring, and it takes you a moment to get out of flirty-mode. Long enough for Beca to interpret your brain failure as an answer in the negative. She frowns, reaching out to squeeze your arm. 'It'll be fine, Chlo.'

'Do you really believe that?' you say doubtfully.

Beca just shrugs. 'I believe in us.' While you're processing this statement, she then glances down, appraising your handiwork. 'You know, after last time, maybe we should try not to show _too_ much skin.' She pulls the zipper back up and readjusts her shirt, ruining your efforts.

In response to your pout, she gives you a wink, which surprisingly is better than her usual attempts. She's always been jealous of your ability to wink "seductively" (her words, not yours, although you aren't going to disagree), saying she just looks like she's trying to get something out of her eye. Maybe she's been practising, because this time, she _just_ about pulls it off.

'Hey, don't worry,' she says to you in an undertone, glancing around to make sure there are no eavesdropping Bellas around. '… Maybe you can see it again another time?'

She goes red straight after saying it, and quickly mumbles an apology as she runs off. But it's nothing compared to the redness in _your_ face. It takes a moment for your legs to start working enough to follow the rest of your team on stage. However, Beca has certainly done her job of pulling you out of your worried mindset, because now all you can think of is making all your dance moves extra provocative in case Beca happens to glance your way.

Perhaps you should thank Kommissar, after all, because she's apparently taught Beca something about flirting.

* * *

On second thought: no, you should not thank Kommissar, or anyone remotely related to DSM. You should not thank the Bellas. And you definitely should not thank whoever thought it was a good idea to include pyrotechnics in this latest performance - the worst part being, it was probably _you_.

The only person you feel like you can rely on right now is Aubrey. Despite the two of you being best friends, that in itself is not the norm: Aubrey's blunt nature and desire to fix things ('Enough of that silly crying, Chloe, it's not going to help anything.') has historically made her a poor person to go to when you are upset. You love Aubrey – however, if you just want someone to pat you awkwardly, or listen while you rant about how your professors sigh in exasperation when you return for lectures every year, Beca is your gal. Right now, though Beca smiles at you sympathetically, you can see her heart isn't entirely in it.

At any rate, at the moment you need cold, hard solutions, not a shoulder to cry on, something Aubrey is only too happy to deliver. It was her that suggested the retreat the first time around, to help you recalibrate after Muffgate. Even then you sensed the beginnings of the Bellas splintering apart, but you declined, thinking it was all in your imagination. Now, you know it isn't, and Aubrey responded immediately to your garbled text begging her for help with, 'Yes, of course.'

She's already Skyped you through one angry explosion about the state of the team, and coaxed you out with soothing words when you sheet-burritoed yourself and proclaimed you were going to hide yourself away from life forever. It feels oddly like how you used to comfort Aubrey when she was at college with you. You wonder whether it's because you've become more like her, or she's become more like you.

'I hope this works,' you say miserably, as you finally close down the online application form for your booking at the Lodge of Fallen Leaves. 'You are literally our last hope, Bree. If we're not in formation by Worlds, I have no idea what we're going to do.'

Aubrey smiles, shifting forward on her chair so she can see you better; she's heard this one at least twice a month since you guys found out DSM existed. 'You will be,' she says, flapping a hand breezily. 'I've dealt with far worse on this job, believe me. We once had a company where _all_ of the managers – male and female - were sleeping with the same intern. In comparison, the Bellas are small potatoes.' When you still look worried, she taps on the mic on her computer, as though she were patting your hand. 'Don't worry, it's entirely fixable. If we came back from me puking everywhere I'm positive you can come back from this as well.'

Distance and time has meant Aubrey can joke about Pukegate, which you're grateful for as it goes some way to melting the icy grip of worry you're encased in. But not entirely. Still, you're grateful that she's trying. 'Thanks, Bree.'

'It's the least I can do. Besides, I'm hardly eager to have the Bellas tradition go down up flames either… Literally,' she says, sighing. 'Is Cynthia Rose alright, by the way?'

'Yeah, she's just grouchy for the most part,' you reply. 'But she screams whenever she sees fire now, which, considering we live with Lilly…'

' _I_ see.' Aubrey winces. 'Wow, what a mess. You guys are losing your focus.'

'It's understandable,' They're all just frustrated about how things are turning out, and they're seriously unmotivated. I'm getting that way too, to be honest with you.'

That last statement is actually rather big for you to admit: that you're starting to feel your enthusiasm waning. Not for winning, because you _need_ to win, but for acapella in general. It all feels like so much work at the moment, which scares you because it's normally an escape for you. Aubrey doesn't acknowledge the gravity of this, merely making a non-committal noise. 'They just need a firm hand. We'll whip them into shape when you get up here.'

'You might have to whip Beca extra hard.'

'Oh, Beca.' Aubrey rolls her eyes. 'Honestly, I'm not entirely surprised they're losing their focus with her as captain.'

Aubrey and Beca get on fairly well now – occasionally if you have Aubrey on Skype, Beca will sit and talk to her too - but she still has doubts about the non-musical aspects of Beca's captaincy skills. You can't entirely blame her for this; Beca is a born musician, but not a born leader. Normally it works out fine, because you can handle that aspect, while for the most part she handles the arrangements; lately, however, it's felt like you have to do both. Your performance at Worlds is still not fully planned because Beca thinks something is missing; yet you can't finalise choreography until it's finished. And try as you might, nothing you create on your own ever sounds as good.

'It's not her fault,' you retort, even though you feel that may not be _entirely_ true. 'She's frustrated too. And she's had a lot going on in her life too - did I tell you she's been sending out demos to record companies?'

Aubrey's eyebrow hikes up. 'No, you didn't. No wonder she's so distracted.' You nod, while she hums in thought. 'Maybe you should talk to Beca about all this? Get all that frustration out.'

You look at her sharply; it's very unlike Aubrey to make such a comment. 'What's _that_ supposed to mean?'

Aubrey snorts. 'My God, I didn't mean it like that; get your mind out of the gutter. Although if you havegot that kind of frustration to work out, by all means do so - but _not_ at the Lodge, thank you. Sex is strictly off limits except in designated areas.'

Flushing, you avert your eyes. It's only over webcam but you still feel like she can read your every emotion just by looking at you. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Oh, please, Chloe. Give me more credit than that,' Aubrey scoffs. 'You don't think I've noticed you talking about her even more than usual?' When all you can do is grumble, her face softens. 'Chloe, be careful, alright? If she's still with Jesse guy, that is _not_ a situation you want to be in right now.'

'She's not. They broke up a while ago,' you say, ignoring the way Aubrey's eyebrow disappears even further into her hair. 'And anyway, I know what I'm doing.'

'Do you _really_? Because from where I'm sitting, you look like you're knee deep in about ten hot messes.' Her doubtful, parental tone – and the wording that reminds you of DSM - irritates you. You don't need yet _another_ voice telling you that you're messing up. The one in your head is more than enough.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Aubrey frowns and taps the mic again. 'Hey,' she says. 'Don't you worry your pretty little head about this, okay, Chloe? Auntie Bree is here, and she's going to take care of things.'

You smile weakly. 'What do you have planned for us?'

She winks, and taps her nose. 'Oh, don't you worry. I have some _special_ tasks in mind for you guys… Especially Beca.'

* * *

Somehow, you end up in the kitchen. You have a paper you should be writing right now (when do you not?) and choreography you should be drilling. But your entire body just feels drained today, and even your throat feels tired and sore, even though the surgery was years ago. Maybe it's just reminiscent of the last time you felt this much pressure to succeed; when failing college wasn't a choice but an unhappy accident, and you seemed to be losing both Beca and Aubrey at the same time.

So, you end up baking. You're not even very good at it but at least it gives you something to do; normally music would be your go-to escape but that's out of the question when the thing causing you to feel stressed _is_ music. And normally when you feel this bad you'd go curl up in Beca's room, but for some reason, you don't feel like interacting with her today. Anything that would usually make you happy seems alien and painful, and it's for that reason that you text Stacie and Cynthia Rose asking them to bring you more eggs and hugs, because you _really_ need them right now.

So it's with an inward groan that Beca strides into the kitchen instead of either of those girls about fifteen minutes later, and you know exactly who to blame for it. She doesn't even say hello, just strides over next to you at the counter and peers into the contents of your mixing bowl. 'Stressed out, huh?' she says, with no preamble.

'Wow, what gave you that idea?'

She seems oblivious to your snippiness, or more likely, is ignoring it. 'Well, even if I hadn't just gotten ten texts telling me to go comfort you because you're mopey, you always bake when you're stressed. And, judging by this massive stack of cookies over here, I'm guessing there's a lot on your mind.' Beca snatches one up and takes a bite.

'Stop that,' you snap. 'You're eating my insecurities about whether my eighth grade Math teacher liked me.'

'Sorry,' says Beca, not sounding the least bit apologetic. She takes another bite; her look is almost challenging you to yell at her. You know she's trying to rile you up, but you don't understand why. 'But just so you know, your insecurities taste delicious.' Beca replaces the half eaten cookie back on the cooling rack, to your annoyance - but of course she knew she'd get that reaction. She nudges your foot with hers. 'What's got you all worked up anyway?'

'Take a guess.'

Beca squints her eyes and puts her fingers to her temples, humming. 'Okay… I'm seeing fire,' she says, her voice dreamy and what Beca probably considers "mysterious". 'There are people screaming… Cynthia Rose turning into a matchstick. Oh, and do you happen to have a dead great-aunt called Ethel? 'Cause she's here too and she's saying she wants to talk to you.'

'Not helping.' You go back to stirring brownie mix. Brownies are safe. Brownies will never let you down or destroy your dreams.

'What, you don't want to speak to your great-aunt Ethel? That's harsh.'

'Beca, I swear...'

'She's sad, Chlo. Why won't you speak to her?'

'Oh my God.'

She chuckles. When all you do is growl, she puts a gentle hand on your frantically mixing arm to steady you. You fling her off with the speed of your movements. 'Dude, calm down,' Beca says mildly. 'I know you're upset about the performance, but honestly, it isn't a big deal.'

'What?! How can you even _say_ that?' you squeak indignantly, jabbing your spoon at Beca aggressively enough that brownie mix sprays onto her face. She just wipes it off without the slightest change in her facial expression. 'Our reputation as Bellas is going down the drain, and you're telling me it's "not a big deal" If that's your attitude to _public humiliation_ , then I think I'd like some alone time with the cookies, please!'

'Alright!' says Beca, holding up her hands in defence. 'I take it back, don't spoon me to death. Or I mean, you can, but at least buy me dinner first.' She winks, and then pauses in wait for your reaction; when you just look at her blankly, she groans. 'Dude, that was brilliant, the _least_ you could do was laugh.'

'Oh, sorry. Here.' You fake a laugh for her benefit, but it's so over the top you end up making yourself laugh for real. 'Happy now?'

'So happy,' she replies wryly, flicking you deftly on the nose. 'And did you just make _yourself_ laugh? I swear Chloe, you're so incredibly lame sometimes, it hurts me.'

'Insults _and_ flicking me? Stressed out girl here, Mitchell – what's wrong with you?'

'I was hoping it would cheer you up,' she says. 'Fine. Since you don't like my "unconventional" forms of comfort, I _suppose_ I can give you a hug or something instead.'

It's the worst segue into cuddling you've ever seen, but so painfully Beca that it makes you smile like an idiot. Especially when Beca starts huffing at you. 'Wow, you're awkward.'

'Oh my God, shut up, before I change my mind.' She puts her arms around you, and sinking into her embrace is pretty automatic for you. You always forget how relieving it feels just to be held by someone.

'Stop worrying, Beale,' Beca murmurs to you, a hand passing soothingly up and down your back. She even scratches lightly at the base of your neck. She's really going all out in this physical comfort thing. 'It'll all be fine. We'll graduate, win Worlds, and then put this whole mess behind us, huh?'

Putting the Bellas behind you sounds like the exact opposite of what you want. You make a petulant little whiny noise, face tucked into her neck.

'Don't be sad,' Beca says, her voice whiny too. 'I hate when you're sad. It's so unnatural, like seeing Jessica without Ashley, or eggplants.'

'Sorry,' you reply.

Beca sighs. 'And don't _apologise_ for it, you idiot.'

' _Sorry_.'

'If you keep apologising, I'm gonna whoop your ass, I swear.'

'Is that a threat or a promise?'

She makes a disgruntled noise, steps on your foot, and then kisses you.

It's as chaste as anything – barely even beyond a peck, really – but it still catches you off guard. You have to force yourself into remembering to breathe again before you pass out; Beca's lips seem to have a knack for cutting off whatever allows you to take in oxygen automatically. When she's done, she goes right back to hugging you as though nothing happened, although you can feel how hot and damp her palms are against your back.

'You really need to stop doing that,' you say on an exhale, fanning yourself with your spoon which somehow you haven't let go of the whole time, even throughout the hug. 'I'm gonna have a heart attack one of these days.'

'Aw, but your reactions are so amusing,' says Beca. Her cheek is pressed against yours; the muscles twitch up into a smile.

'Can't you just ask next time?'

'That's not as fun.' She titters nervously. 'Besides, _you_ have free will. You could put in some effort too.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well – that is… If _you_ ever did want to kiss me…' She trails off, and you fear you've just one of those increasingly frequent moments where you've blacked out and imagined something she was saying. 'I mean, I wouldn't exactly stop you.'

Your mouth goes dry, and you start frantically licking your lips because goddammit, this is _not_ the time for having lips like a desert. And where is your chapstick? 'Wait, really?'

She shrugs. 'Sure, I guess.'

It's not the overwhelmingly enthusiastic reaction you would have liked, but it's Beca so you shouldn't have expected anything else. At any rate, you're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. This time, you drop your spoon into the bowl with a clatter, the loud noise jangling your nerves even more than they already are. Beca's eyes are slightly wide and frightened, presumably at seeing a heightened version of the same expression on your face.

'Slow down, cowboy,' she warns you. 'You look like you're about to jump into an aca-rap battle, not kiss me.'

'Should I be singing No Diggity?' You glide closer, hoping your legs stay functional long enough for you to do this.

You take her by the shoulders, rethink that, and take her by the hands instead – and then rethink _that_ and go for the face. Classic. Movie style kiss. You can totes do this.

Meeting her bemused gaze for a moment, you just pause, wondering. A few months ago you'd thought Beca was straight and probably going to marry Jesse and have three very musically talented kids that you'd end up being an extremely bitter godmother to. And now you're getting ready to kiss her, with way more build up and tension than you've ever felt before a kiss. Normally by now you'd have just gone for it – but Beca isn't normal, and nor is your relationship with her.

This time it's special.

'Is this real life?' Beca wonders aloud, as the pads of your thumbs track a path across her prominent cheekbones.

'That's so 2008, Beca.'

You wonder how you can muster the brainpower to be making jokes at a time like this, when truly rational thought feels waterlogged and distant. That's just how it is with Beca, you suppose. Lighthearted. Easy.

Simultaneously, the two of both take a deep breath, as though preparing yourself to dive into cold water – but you kiss Beca before she can let it out properly, wanting to surprise _her_ this time. Even so, it still seems to shock you more than her, because you gasp as soon as your lips touch hers. Beca makes no noise, to your disappointment; her hands simply glide down to cover yours.

And it's – well.

It's a kiss.

You've had those before. Many times, in fact, and as ever, the physical mechanics are still nice. It feels good being this close to someone, feeling the warmth of their body on yours. You still love having someone sink into you, sigh into your mouth and press their lips a little harder against yours when they're enjoying it. Beca does all these things, and more.

The very fact it's a kiss with Beca, however, makes all the difference.

It's different this time, compared to the other kisses you've had. There's no guilt, for one, because you're _allowed_ to kiss Beca. Jesse can't come running in screaming at you for doing it. And although the Bellas may interrupt at any moment, they're not going to do much besides roll their eyes and say, 'Finally'. So that's not a worry.

Yet something is gnawing at you – the worry that it's going to be _bad_. It's hopefully the first "real" kiss of many, or at least one that lasts more than a few seconds, and you don't want her to cringe when she thinks back on this. You consider yourself a good kisser - pretty damn good actually - but it's like any thought of technique or the usual things you'd do to drive someone crazy go out the window. You're just guided by instinct, hoping just _you_ is enough for her, with no extra frills or bows.

Oddly, all you can think of is her first kiss with Jesse, when she ran up to him flushed with success from the first win for the Bellas; dramatic, surrounded by an audience and a perfect ending. Beca might hate movies but she certainly has a flair for the cinematic. Nothing like this - your first "real" kiss with Beca is alone in a messy kitchen with your fingers sticky and dusty with flour on her face, the sharp edge of the island probably digging into her back. Her hair gets in your mouth, and your nose bumps hers a little when you angle your head for a deeper kiss.

It's not what you envisaged for a perfect first kiss and probably nothing like what Beca deserves. But then you remember, _she_ leftJesse. And she's the one kissing you back so eagerly right now, clumsily searching for an appropriate place to find purchase on your shoulders - like she doesn't know she could touch you anywhere. Like she hasn't already laid you bare before her so many times without even needing to put her hands on you.

Maybe Beca doesn't want a perfectly cinematic ending. Maybe she wants a beginning; the promise of more, of learning about each other. Maybe she wants a future. With you.

The problem is, you may not be able to give that to her. Because you don't have one of your own.

It's this thought that makes your stomach turn, and makes you pull back. Again you have to force yourself to start breathing again – and then you laugh suddenly. 'You have flour all over your face.' It must have transferred from your hand to her cheeks. 'You're even more pale than before, now.'

Beca huffs at this comment, grumbling, 'I liked you better when your mouth was busy.' You make to wipe more on her face in revenge, but she dodges it and scrambles out from under your arm. 'Dude, no. Don't even - I am _not_ doing that cliché rom-com "flour fight" thing with you.'

'You're no fun,' you pout. The turning in your stomach is gradually. Beca's grin has that effect on you.

'Don't pout at me. You just got flour on my face, _I_ should be the one pouting.' You catch her this time, smearing what's left on your hands down her neck, making Beca shriek. 'Dude, oh my God! Stop!'

She catches your wrist when you try to get her again, tugging you into another kiss. She's trying to distract you, you know - and it works, all the way up until you feel the cold, greasy feeling of raw egg slipping down your head. 'Just kidding, I _am_ doing it,' Beca cackles, and of course, then she must pay.

The brownies never get finished.

You also run out of flour.

And eggs.

And milk.

And when Cynthia Rose enters the kitchen ten minutes later she walks straight back out again. Neither of you notice, because _hello, busy here_. You probably wouldn't have been up for talking much, anyway. Throughout it all, you still feel that gnawing sensation, and are aware of the thoughts in the back of your mind. But hey, you figure if you practice enough you might be able to learn how to tune it out.

And Beca is only too happy to help.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I should really stop promising speedy/short updates, because I looked at this chapter and said, 'You know what it needs? THREE THOUSAND MORE WORDS AND MORE ARGUMENTS.' You're bloody welcome.**

 **Side note: FFN seems to really hate horizontal breaks at the moment, so if ever a scene change looks odd, that'd be why.**

* * *

As much as you had wanted to drive straight to the Lodge of Fallen Leaves after the performance at the convention, you had – very kindly, you feel – allowed at least until the weekend for the Bellas to get ready and prepare. You'd imagined that this would allow the Bellas to get ready without disrupting them too much. However, you realise now, on the day that you have to leave, that you should have known better than to trust the Bellas to handle getting ready on their own. You haven't seen half the girls all morning and suspect they may have been avoiding you. Emily is the only one who has been up, fully packed, and enthusiastic about where you're going. As salty as you are about losing the Riff Off, at least she's not as big a pain in your ass as the others can be at times, and she's definitely too nice to be mad at for long.

When you walk up the stairs to the room Amy and Beca share, you hear giggles which are hastily stifled. Amy, Stacie, Flo and Cynthia Rose sitting on the beds, staring at you guiltily. You wonder whether they really thought you wouldn't think to look for them up here. Sighing, you put your hands on on your hips, feeling more than ever like the team mom. 'Guys, we're leaving in like two hours! Why aren't you ready?'

You notice Beca's bed is empty, but her suitcase is sitting on top of it, presumably filled already. At least you can count on her for something. 'We started,' says Amy, casting a guilty look at the haphazard piles of Amy's clothes dotted around the room. 'But then we thought… Ehhhh.'

'I'm good - I'm just helping Stace pack.' Cynthia Rose holds up a tiny pair of underwear on the tip of her finger, shooting you a wink as she does so.

'Nope, those are mine.' Amy snatches them back, examining them with an expression of distaste. 'Ugh, you got drool all over them.'

'Well, _I'm_ packed,' Flo pipes up proudly, nodding to the smallest rucksack you've ever seen sitting by her feet.

You grimace. 'Flo, you're probably going to need a few more items of clothing than that. We're probably going to be wading in mud and water and all manner of other things.'

' _Mud_?' exclaims Stacie. 'No one said anything about mud. I really hope you mean facials.'

'You've had enough of _those_ in your lifetime,' says Amy, sniggering; this comment earns her a t-shirt in the face from Stacie, rolled eyes from you, and a barely hidden chuckle from Cynthia Rose.

'Alright, enough messing around. Get packing, guys.'

'But Chloe,' Amy whines, 'that seems like a lot of effort for something I don't particularly want to do.'

You pick up a handful of clothes, nudge open Amy's suitcase at the foot of the bed, and dump them in. 'There. Now you go.'

A mini stand-off begins, as Amy tries to stare you down; you fold your arms, simply looking back with the most unimpressed expression you can muster. In the background, Cynthia Rose provides the appropriate spaghetti Western music, while Stacie makes pistol noises. In the end it is Amy that gives in first when faced with the staring contest skills you've honed over many years of practice staring down your brothers over who has to take the garbage out. Amy turns, cautiously picking up a bra with her face turned away as though it might explode. Opening the suitcase with one hand, she throws it in with the other items of clothing.

'Yes, very good,' you reply dryly. 'Now do the rest.' You turn to Stacie, Flo and Cynthia Rose. 'You guys should get ready too.'

'What about Lilly?'

'Where is she?' A suitcase in the corner, which until now you had taken no notice of, topples over on its own and you hear a muffled 'oof'. 'Never mind. What about Jessica and Ashley? And Beca?' You try to add the last name as nonchalantly as you can; judging by Stacie's smirk, you fail this attempt.

'Jessica and Ashley are probably off doing the downwards dingo somewhere, and Beca's working, at a guess,' replies Amy. Her reply is delivered absently, because she's currently trying to decide which bikini bottoms flatter her more. You decide not to mention it probably won't matter how good her ass looks when it's encased in mud.

'Oh, you mean she's working on her demos again?' you ask.

'What?' Amy's head shoots up, and her eyes widen as she seems to backtrack and realise what she just said. 'Oh – yeah, that. That's what I said. So!' she says, changing the topic quickly, 'what's going on with you and the musical midget anyway?'

You raise an eyebrow, once again sensing there's something you aren't being told. However, you decide not to push it for now, or you Amy may never finish packing. 'Nothing, seeing as she isn't here. But at least _she's_ packed, unlike the rest of you slackers.' You stride over to Beca's bed and picking up the suitcase to set it on the ground. It's only then that you realise it's completely empty.

Amy says smugly, 'Who's the slacker now?'

* * *

The bus ride to the retreat is thankfully not as tense as the one back from the convention – the Bellas aren't at each other's throats anymore, and nor do you feel homicidal rage bubbling beneath the surface. However, compared to the others, Beca is oddly quiet. Maybe it's because you called her repeatedly for twenty minutes until she picked up, and then yelled at her via voice message for having not packed for another ten. Or it may have been the small argument you ended up having when she _did_ return.

It should perhaps concern you, how often and quickly you and Beca seem to slip into arguments these days. Even as you take such giant leaps forward, like Beca breaking up with Jesse and finally kissing you, beneath it all there still lurks the same tension you still haven't been able to work through. You know from Amy's comments and the fact she still keeps disappearing every day that there's something she's still not telling you. However, still neither of you want to discuss it outright, in case that means upsetting the delicate balance you have right now. Even though the boat is filling up with water currently, neither of you want to risk capsizing the whole thing and going overboard.

You'd been sitting on the couch waiting for Beca for the better part of an hour, leaving the aforementioned text messages and voicemails. The rest of the Bellas were finally packed themselves and were simply milling idly around the house in wait for your signal to leave. Happily they had left you seething in the living room on your own, as any attempt to engage you in more than asking whether Beca was back yet was only replied to with a grunt or growl.

When Beca finally sauntered in, all casual and scrolling through her phone like she hadn't a care in the world, well - maybe it grated on your overly sensitive nerves just a little more than it would have any other day. Maybe that's why you shrieked, 'Where have you _been_?' pretty much as soon as she stepped through the door.

Beca raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a short wave. 'Well, hello to you too.' She shut the door with one quick flick of her foot. 'Thanks for all the the repeated calls - my butt loved the vibration massage.'

'Actually picking up the phone would have solved that easily,' you reminded her curtly. 'We have to start setting off soon, and you're not even packed!'

'I was on my way back - I figured it was easily to talk to you personally,' she responded evasively, flapping her hand dismissively. 'Don't worry. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be ready - no need to tear my head off as soon as I walk through the door.' Shoving her phone in her back pocket, she started to trudge upstairs, but something inside you couldn't let her walk away without one last snark.

'Pack for physical activity,' you called after her. 'If you remember what that looks like.'

It was a low blow; you honestly had meant it to sound more teasing, but the irritation still flooding through you made it come out more aggressively than intended. Beca faltered, looking back at you with her brow creasing in annoyance. 'Wow,' she snapped. 'Nice. '

'Sorry. It was meant to be a joke.'

'I'm sure it was.' Beca pressed her lips together until they formed a tight line. You stood up from the couch, about to reach for her and give her an apologetic hug, but she shrank out of your reach at the last moment. Hurt, your arms flopped back to your side.

'Okay, I guess I deserved that,' you conceded, shrugging with more indifference than you really felt at that moment. 'Still, we're probably going to have to share a tent this weekend, so it's probably best you get used to physical contact with me again quickly.'

'Tents?' she said in disbelief. 'Great, just what someone who is surgically attached to their laptop needs...' Despite her snarky comments, she hugged you then, sighing as you kissed the top of your head and her temple, and the fight left both of you quickly amid the embrace. However, you were only allowed to savour the closeness for a moment before the boat started rocking again. 'Chlo, do we really have to go?' she asked, voice half muffled into your shirt.

'Yes, it's our best shot at -'

'I know, it's our best shot at winning Worlds. You keep saying that,' she replied. 'You said that about the Riff Off and the convention performance too. But if I'm being totally honestly, I could do without having to go away for this dumb camp thing for a whole weekend.'

You tried not to stiffen up - and for the most part, you managed. However, you couldn't take out the coldness in your voice when you said, 'Dumb, huh?'

'Ugh.' She half headbutts you, digging her forehead into your shoulder. 'Don't do that, you knew what I meant.'

'Did I?'

'Jesus,' mumbled Beca, pulling back so she could peer up at you in concern. 'Look - I didn't mean you're dumb, or the Bellas are dumb. Just that we don't need to spend a whole weekend doing silly teamwork activities just so we can win at Worlds. We're an acapella group: all we need is a good arrangement.'

'Yeah, and this'll help us make one,' you said. 'The reason we've been struggling is because we've lost our _sound_. And we won't be able to find it again if we're not working as a team.'

'But technically, since I handle the arrangements, _I'm_ the sound,' argued Beca. 'And believe me, I'd be much better off staying here and working on it than going along with you guys.'

You stepped back all the way from her, stunned at her audacity – that she would minimise everyone else's participation in the making of your arrangements. She might have a little bit of a point, but only because, 'That's _your_ decision, Beca,' you said slowly. 'You won't let anyone else help you.'

'Because this is basically what I want to do for a living, Chloe. That's how it's always been. It's why we won so many times, and why the Bellas even got as successful as they were.' She made a noise of annoyance. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

You had been frowning at her, one particular thought circling in your head. 'You really believe that, don't you? That you're the one leading this team.'

She tilted her head, looking confused. 'Well... Am I wrong? You can't pretend I haven't gotten results. Even Aubrey can't deny that, and that's why she let me take over in the end.'

She wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Admittedly you _have_ let Beca handle the majority of the music side ever since that first win in your senior year - and Beca is right, she's had proven results over the years. However, somehow you'd convinced yourself it was a partnership, with both of you putting more focus on your respective talents but ultimately _collaborating_ when it came to the overall sound of the Bellas. Ever since that day when you cornered her in the shower it's always felt like a duet between the two of you, not just both of you singing at the same time. You're meant to complement each other. To harmonise.

So to have Beca point blank saying that she didn't feel the same hurt you more than you could say.

'No, Aubrey couldn't deny that,' you said quietly, twisting your fingers together. 'And nor can I. But you know something? When Aubrey let you take over it was for the good of the team. Whereas the way you're acting now… I don't know who you think you're helping, but it's not us.'

Beca visibly bristled. 'You can talk,' she said hotly. 'You're so obsessed with acapella that you're letting everything else fall by the wayside. Who do _you_ think you're helping? Because I got some news: it ain't you, Beale.'

'But that's just it - I don't care about me. All I care about is the Bellas, because I'm their captain. And so are you, Beca, much as I know you don't really want to be anymore. All the same, it'd be great if you could act like one for a _single_ weekend instead of looking down on me for - God forbid! - putting some effort into something _I_ still love, even if _you_ don't!'

A long silence followed; you could tell your words had stung. However, before you could apologise, Beca had stiffened up her jaw and turned away. 'Whatever,' Beca replied sullenly. 'I'll go pack, then.'

Back in the present moment, Beca is sitting across from you next to Emily again, throwing you the odd glance whenever she thinks you're not looking. In between this game of surreptitious-glance-tennis, Cynthia Rose is watching the progress of the bus through the GPS on her phone and grimacing whenever she loses signal. 'Chloe,' she exclaims, after half an hour of this. 'Where the hell is this "Lodge of Fallen Trees"? I can't even find it on Google Maps. I swear if this turns into some Friday the Thirteen bullshit, I am _not_ dying first.'

'It's "The Lodge of Fallen Leaves",' you correct her. 'We're going on a retreat to help us find out sound again.'

'Yeah, you said that. Like ten times,' Cynthia Rose snaps. 'But where is it?'

'I don't know, exactly,' you say, flushing. You're working on your knowledge of geography (sort of, you've opened a few maps here and there, then promptly closed them again) but it's still a sore point. 'Still, it doesn't matter. It's going to lead us on the path back to aca-greatness.'

'Couldn't we have just done a few mashups in the pool again? It worked last time,' says Amy, sighing.

'No! Look, this is vital if we're going to win at Worlds.' You try not to let desperation seep into your tone, especially when you hear Beca snort gently. You've made this speech, and variants of it, so many times in the last week or so that you're beginning to forget what the words even mean. 'The key to acapella is synchronicity. And we can't be in tune with each other if everyone's fighting between themselves, creating drama and tension.'

'I don't think _we're_ the ones creating tension,' says Stacie.

There's a brief beat as everyone blinks at Stacie, who continues filing her nails. '… What's that supposed to mean, Stacie?' you ask, even though you're pretty sure you already know.

Stacie seems shocked anyone heard her, as though she'd forgotten her mouth could make noises. 'Oh, nothing. Sorry.'

'Do you mean sexual tension?' Emily pipes up, cocking her head to the side. 'If so, I'm _totally_ getting that vibe as well. I mean, not that _I'm_ feeling sexual tension – well, you know what I mean. UST. It's totally in the air.' She clears her throat, apparently becoming aware that the others are looking at her. 'Dang, is it hot in here? Someone crack a window, eh?'

'There's deffo UST between Emily and awkwardness,' says Amy, turning towards her with a glare. 'Don't you know anything? Don't ever draw direct attention to the Bhloe. It's just not done.'

'Guys, just shut up, will you?' Beca interrupts fiercely, her first words since getting on the bus. 'We're already halfway there, it'd be a real shame to throw any of you out of the window.'

Amy whistles. 'Touch- _y.'_ However _,_ she still throws a worried glance at both you and Beca. You try to smile back reassuringly, but you can only keep it up for a moment before it starts wobbling, and the hot, burning feeling of the beginning of tears hits you all over again.

* * *

The requisite first step of bonding, as dictated by any Hollywood movie: setting up the tent. You ignore the voice in your head – or rather, the whiny voices of Beca and/or Amy – complaining that this is dumb, and _how_ does building a tent together help with acapella exactly? And most importantly, when the hell is dinner?

'Food comes after you demonstrate that you can work as a team,' Aubrey tells the girls brightly.

You sling an arm around the nearest helpless girl – which happens to be Lilly, so not very helpless at all – and hug her tightly. 'This is so great!' you gush, even letting out a tiny little squeal. 'I'm so glad we decided to come here.' You feel something sharp prod you in the back, and promptly let go of Lilly.

'Hey, _you_ decided to bring us, Beale, not us,' Amy huffs, sifting through the tent materials with an expression of distaste.

'Oh come on, what's not to love? We're in the outdoors!' You spread your fingers excitedly. 'And I for one am very excited to see what happens when a bunch of college girls who lost their way have to bond together to build something with their hands in the middle of nowhere.' You're aware that the girls are looking at you like you've suddenly announced your engagement to John Smith. However, even that can't puncture your enthusiasm (which looks suspiciously like overexcitement to hide your worry over this not working out). '… Aren't you?'

No one is really listening, and the look Beca gives you is completely exasperated. 'You're lucky you're that pretty.'

Coming from Beca, it's hard to tell whether that's meant to be complimentary or not.

It takes far longer than it should to install the tent, partly because it seems you're the only one actually putting any effort in. And as enthusiastic as you are, this isn't meant to be a one person job. You're glad when Aubrey returns. The Bellas seem to know they're in trouble, because they immediately try to look as though they're busy; however, Aubrey sees right through this.

'Excuse me, at what point did I say, "Chloe, please install this tent on your own"?' Aubrey barks, arms akimbo. 'This is a _team_ exercise, Bellas!'

Beca protests, waving the tent pole she's holding, 'Hey, _I'm_ helping!'

'Mitchell, do not make me hit you over the head with that pole,' she growls. 'You know, this is _exactly_ why you guys are falling behind on the competitive scene. You've forgotten how to work together, and Chloe's the only one who seems to actually care right now.'

The others side-eye you; you try not to seem too conspicuous.

'So here's what's going to happen. _Everyone_ is going to take part in this activity, and for that matter, all the activities coming up this weekend. That includes you, Fat Amy.' Amy looks offended at the very idea of her not participating, even though she's been "taking a breather" for the last twenty minutes or so. 'If you don't care about your team anymore, then fine: you might as well just leave now. But to all those who stay, and actually _want_ to see the Bellas reinstated to their former glory, I want those tents up within ten minutes. Am I clear?' She pauses; no one responds at first, and her eyes narrow. 'I said, AM I CLEAR?'

The girls scatter, with nary another comment besides Stacie mumbling, 'I have the weirdest boner right now.'

Naturally, the tent gets put up far quicker with the help of nine other girls, despite their varying levels of outdoorsman skill. Aubrey yelling instructions to them or threatening to throw them in the mud pit if they don't get a move on also helps. You nod gratefully to her when she isn't raging for a moment, and she just smiles.

'Done!' you cry happily, when two handsome tents have finally been erected. For once Aubrey actually looks vaguely impressed, nodding her approval.

'Not bad, Bellas. I have to say that had my doubts, especially when you couldn't work out which way around the tent was meant to go, but you really -'

You hear the cracking before you see what it is, but some sixth sense makes you pull Beca back into you, in case she somehow gets hurt - and not a moment too soon, Beca seems surprised at your actions, gazing up at you in astonishment; you lock eyes for a moment until you realise what you're doing and let go. Beca opens her mouth and almost seems about to say something until she realises that while the tree fell nowhere near her or the group, it _has_ just ruined an entire afternoon's work in one fell swoop. Whatever she was going to say is lost in the cacophony of the Bellas screaming in protest about their lost efforts.

Meanwhile, you, on the other hand, are suspicious. While a squashed tent is far preferable to dealing with a squashed Bella, it all seems to fit in just a little too conveniently for the Lodge's ethos.

Sure enough, Aubrey smirks. 'Wow, look at that,' she says, sounding almost gleeful. 'Guess you're doubling up! Shoulder to shoulder and head to toe - there's more room that way.' Aubrey pats Beca's shoulder as she begins to walk away. At the same time, she gives you a surreptitious wink, one which simultaneously makes you admire and fear your best friend all at once.

Beca turns on her heel, gaping after Aubrey. 'Aubrey, _no_.'

'Actually - Aubrey, _yes_ ,' she singsongs back over her shoulder. 'Nighty night!'

* * *

Inside the tent, despite the cramped conditions, and despite your best efforts, you somehow end up in the spot next to Beca, your head resting next to yours. Not once do you consider that the other Bellas (except Lilly, who flops down on Beca's other side) are deliberately avoiding that area and holding back on getting into the tent so you can be the one lying next to her. It takes some fairly skilled synchronized movement on their part, and you might even be impressed if it wasn't working against you right now. If Beca has a problem with this she says nothing about it, merely settles down into the allotted space with her arms folded over her chest and staring straight above her at the tent's ceiling.

All the same, she seems oddly restless, and every time she rolls around or shifts next to you, some body part brushes yours in a way you're hoping is deliberate. Considering the lingering tension between you since your argument, it probably isn't, unless she thinks elbowing you in your left boob is somehow sexy.

When Amy leaves, you turn onto your side, trying to get comfy and block out any potential noises you might be hearing from outside the tent. At the same moment, Beca does so too. 'What are we doing here?' Beca hisses to you. She sounds so dramatically put upon; it's an automatic reaction to smile when she looks like an exact replica of Grumpy Cat right now. You wish you weren't upside down right now, and that the two of you – a Spiderman kiss surrounded by the uncomfortable whispers of your friends as background noises is not exactly the most romantic setting, but at the very least you wish you could kiss away the severe frown marring her forehead right now.

'We're _bonding_ ,' you reply, to which she only snorts lightly. 'You seem so tense. Do you need a backrub?' You gently try to push her hair out of her face with the tips of your fingers, feeling her twist away from the touch. Even with that fleeting contact you can feel how warm her skin is. She's blushing, you're sure of it.

' _Several_ body parts are rubbing my back right now, thank you,' she responds tersely. Yet even in the dark you can see her glance up at your lips, just for a moment. You're surrounded by Bellas snoring and tossing and turning, and you're _upside down_ , but she still can't help herself.

Maybe it's evil, but you feel a perverse need to make her feel as uncomfortable as you do. It's been a long, tension filled day, and you've had enough of Beca acting like this to you. So you shift a tiny bit closer and drop your voice even more, but still keep it loud enough for the others to hear. 'You know Beca, we're very close but I think this retreat is really gonna let us discover everything about each other.'

She barely breathes as she replies flatly, 'Is that right.'

You nod, deliberately exaggerating the curve of your lips as you smile, _knowing_ she's watching you do it. No one else in the tent is talking, and the air seems still as your silent audience waits for your next response. You're fully aware they're listening in, yet pretending not to be. 'You know,' you whisper, 'one of my biggest regrets is that I didn't do enough experimenting in college.'

The look on her face as you say that is priceless. Although you know Beca is going to make you pay for saying that in front of the other Bellas, likely leading her to even more teasing than usual, you're rewarded when you hear Beca's breath catch momentarily. And her gaze is back on your lips _again_. She catches your eye, and you see how tight her jaw has become; it almost looks like she's angry at you. She'd certainly have reason to be, but you rather like to think the expression on her face has something to do with why she keeps looking at your mouth.

'You're _so_ weird,' she blurts out, and quickly rolls away from you.

'Thanks,' you reply to her back, barely hiding your smile. You hear Stacie giggle from elsewhere in the tent; someone kicks you lightly in the back of the leg.

'I want to go home,' you hear Beca murmur, as Lilly licks her nose.

* * *

It's early morning when Beca gets up and leaves the tent. It isn't hard to notice her leaving because despite Beca's best efforts, she treads on your arm on the way out, and the hands and hair of several of the other girls. She whispers an apology as she unzips the tent and scrambles out of it, kicking Amy in the process.

You know you should just leave her – she probably needs space - but the temptation is too much. You get up, tripping over the grumbling girls too in your haste to follow.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sooo, I actually have a good reason for my delay this time, in that I decided to complete the rest of the fic before I updated next (and also real life intervened, but who cares about that)? As such, JLG is more or less complete - there'll be two more chapters after this one providing nothing goes wrong. There will possibly (most likely) be an epilogue but we'll see.**

 **In any case, thanks for supporting this fic guys. It's been unexpectedly difficult at times, but I'm glad I stuck it out. I hope it's at least slightly worth the wait.**

* * *

Beca never looks back over her shoulder as she marches purposefully away, which you're glad for; despite your attempts to tread lightly, your teeth chattering in the night-time chill doesn't exactly make the silent approach easy. You still make an effort to duck away when you think she might suddenly notice your presence, darting from tree to tree as though you're in some kind of (incredibly dull) action movie. Still, however, she never notices. You perhaps need to have a talk with her about being more aware of her surroundings when walking in a darkened wood, because _really_. You could be anyone.

Thankfully, Beca doesn't walk for long; barely a few minutes away from the tent, she comes to a sudden stop. You dart behind a nearby tree trunk to watch as she too leans against a tree. You see her bend over and her shoulders rise and fall rapidly for a moment – catching her breath – and she lets out a loud, frustrated groan. There's even a little foot stomping involved.

It's a rather cute little display, all things considered. Like a puppy having a small tantrum. Under any other circumstances you might just stand and watch her for a while, but the cold is starting to seep through your admittedly already thin layers, to the point where even the tent is starting to feel preferable to being out here right now.

'I'm glad you didn't go any further.' You try to keep your voice quiet in order not to scare her. Despite this Beca lets out a little squeak of fright, showing how wrapped up in her thoughts she was. She tries to play it off though, turning it into a cough as she runs a hand through her rumpled hair. 'Didn't you hear what Aubrey said about bear traps?'

She doesn't look any more relaxed when she realises who has been following her. If anything, Beca seems more stressed and tense, if her hunched shoulders are any indication. 'You need to wear a bell, I swear,' she says, teeth gritted. 'What are you doing out here?'

'I could ask you the same. I got worried when you left without telling anyone.' Much as you want to move closer, she seems ready to run at any second. Her gaze keeps flicking to what you assume is the campsite behind you, and not a vicious axe murderer creeping up. You try not to linger on that thought. Being out here is creepy enough already. 'Can't sleep?'

'No…' replies Beca, then after a moment, 'yeah. Something like that.'

'Why not?'

'Sleeping pressed up against a load of other girls isn't exactly my idea of a good night.'

'That's funny, because it's mine,' you say, smiling. Beca lets out a small, bored "ha", barely even trying to sound amused. She presses her back against the tree, pulling her shirt out in an attempt to make it cover more of her body; this has the added effect of pulling the material taut against her chest. 'Should we go back? It's freezing out here… Although, maybe you already know that,' you say.

Beca seems confused for a moment, but you give a little pointed nod and the barest hint of a smirk and she works it out quickly. 'Very funny,' Beca says, rolling her eyes when she sees where you're looking. She crosses her arms self-consciously over herself. 'Of course you would notice something like that, you pervert.'

'I'm an observant woman,' you reply indignantly.

'Pervert.'

'I like to take in all details around me. Especially about you. It's my artist's mind.'

' _Pervert_ ,' Beca insists, with a slight smile. It doesn't last long, however, before it slides off her face. She slumps, rubbing her eyes.

'Tired?' you ask. Beca makes a non-committal noise. 'Stressed? You know, that backrub offer is still always there if you want it.' You're (half) joking, expecting another pervert comment. But to your surprise, she _actually_ seems to be considering it. 'Seriously?'

'Mm. I dunno, I'm a little…' She tilts her head back to peer at you through the darkness. 'It's been a long day.'

She sounds incredibly weary. You can certainly sympathise. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Beca scuffs her shoe along the floor, kicking up leaves and dirt. 'Well, we could, but I'm not sure you'd really listen,' she says sullenly. Her sudden moodiness surprises you; raising a questioning eyebrow doesn't get you anywhere, because she just meets your look with a defiant one of her own. She starts to put her hands in her pockets - then she realises her pyjamas have none and instead folds her arms again, gripping her own forearms tight.

'Do you want to tell me why you just went all Sulky Beca on me?'

It's meant to be light-hearted but it has the opposite effect. 'I'm not sulking,' Beca responds tightly. 'I'm just pissed off. And I think I have a right to be, so can you not minimise it like that by saying I'm "sulking"?'

'Whoa,' you say, taken aback by the venom in her voice. 'Alright, I'm sorry. Tell me why you're pissed off.'

Beca scoffs. 'I want to but it's just gonna lead to another argument. And we've been fighting so much already - and I'm tired of it. Normally we can talk about anything with each other, but right now there's all this tension. It's ridiculous.'

'It's harder when the issue we have to discuss is us,' you agree.

'Why does it have to be hard, though? It seems like a bad omen,' she replies, frowning up at you. 'Jesse and I seemed to argue a lot towards the end, and we know how _that_ went.'

You can understand that worry, but the thought of being compared to Jesse irritates you still. 'I'm not him,' you reply. 'Just because things happened with him, it doesn't mean they will with me.' She mumbles that she knows that, but still seems troubled. 'Hey…' You tip your head back quickly, signalling her to come closer to you. 'Come here.'

'Why?'

'Do I have to give a reason to want to be close to you?' you say.

'It's you,' Beca replies, narrowing her eyes. 'So yes.'

'If you must know, it's really cold. I say we hug to conserve body warmth.'

'I don't know if I trust the look in your eye,' she says; but all the same, she steps forward cautiously until she's in arms reach of you. You take her wrists and place her hands on your hips. It's so cold, and Beca's so warm – odd, because normally she's the one who's like touching an ice cube. This time, the contrast between your freezing skin and her hands sends more goosebumps up your arms and a rippling tingle down your leg.

Beca blinks when you take her face between your palms and kiss away the furrow in her brow. 'See? I knew I shouldn't have trusted you. Talk about taking advantage.'

'I'm _comforting_ you, not taking advantage,' you protest.

'Yeah yeah, Beale. I know you always have ulterior motives.' Even so you can feel the walls she has up tonight starting to fall down again. Which is good, because you really would like to go back to bed. More kisses are placed, getting closer and closer to her mouth; she seems to be enjoying them until you're actually about to kiss her. She turns her head at the last moment. 'Okay now, we probably shouldn't do _that_.' Even you know it's a weak statement when you can already feel her skin growing hotter through her shirt.

'Why not?'

'Chloe…' She squirms. 'I know what you're doing. You're literally just trying to distract me right now.'

'Is it working?'

'N…' Beca trails off abruptly and shivers, when your fingertips graze her cheeks and the corners of her mouth. 'Chlo, stop that.' She takes a little step back, suddenly looking irritated. 'I'm trying to speak to you here.'

'I'm not stopping you. I'm just trying to calm you down, because you're super tense.'

'Oh, and of course _that's_ the way you decide to do it?' She snorts. 'And I thought _I_ was bad at communicating. You get on my case all the time about bottling stuff up, but you're ten times worse if you ask me.'

Her scathing tone makes you bristle. 'Oh, don't pretend like there aren't things you've been hiding from me, even now,' you respond briskly, already tired of what feels like the tenth time you've tried to bring this up with her. 'I'll let you have your secrets if you let me have mine.'

You know you have her when she scrunches up her face. 'Whatever,' she replies finally, and you laugh derisively at this lame reply. 'We _could_ have an honest conversation about all this shit if you'd just stop shutting me down. And gee, I _wonder_ why you keep doing that? Oh wait, _I_ know,' she says. She raises her chin, tapping a finger on it in mock-contemplation. 'Because deep down you're scared.'

This comment is jarring and seems to come from left field in this particular conversation. However, you can tell from the way Beca has her fists clenched, that it's something that's been building up _in her head_ , and it's all just waiting to come out now. You sigh, resigned to this argument occurring in the middle of the night, in some freezing woods while you're only dressed in thin pajamas. You wish you'd known Beca was going to be like this, because you'd at least worn a few extra sweaters.

'Fine. I'll bite. What am I scared of, again?'

Everything, pipes up a small insecure voice in your head. You quickly squash that down, but Beca seems to have gained mindreading powers and echoes it out loud. 'Everything,' she says. 'And you don't want anyone to know. You're scared of people finding out you don't have a clue what you're doing. With the Bellas, with graduation… You just keep avoiding it, hoping if you put your head in the sand, it'll go away.' She laughs derisively. 'It's pretty hypocritical for you to have been on my case about avoiding my feelings for you, when _you're_ running away from this massive problem.'

Unfortunately for both you and Beca, any hope you had of responding coherently has fled your mind. All you can hear in your brain currently is a dull buzzing sound, in place of actual thoughts. She waits impatiently as the cogs turn and click into place in your brain, as you desperately try to come up with some sort of useful response.

'C'mon, she says, when you take too long. 'Just talk to me. I don't think I'm that bad of a listener, so you might as well stop closing off.' She hesitates, making a face. 'God, you're literally becoming me. That's terrifying in itself, huh?'

Your legs suddenly feel incapable of holding your weight; you sink against the tree, trying to take a breath to try and calm yourself. Beca steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. 'Huh,' she comments. 'That shade of pale is _not_ a good look for you. Are you okay? Please don't vomit on me.'

'It's fine.' Your voice is oddly robotic, completely devoid of emotion. Maybe that's because inside your head, your emotions are running in circles and crashing into each other. 'It's fine.'

She squints at you. 'Was I too harsh on you? Like, I'm sorry if so. I just want to help you.'

'It's fine.'

'You know, oddly, the more you say it's fine, the less I believe you.'

'Beca,' you say, half hyperventilating at this point, 'just – shut up, okay?'

She scowls, affronted. 'Chloe, you can't just -'

You kiss her then, nearly stumbling over your feet when you lunge for her. There's something oddly satisfying about cutting Beca off in the middle of speech, and you're beginning to understand why she's done it to you previously. You just want all this to stop as well; you want your mind to stop. Your teeth sink into Beca's bottom lip; her groan seems too loud in the quiet, even with your joined mouths muffling the noises she's making.

You shove her down to the ground, and then rather unceremoniously onto her back as you scramble to straddle her thighs. The ground underneath scratches at your knees and legs but it feels so far away from your consciousness when your teeth are sinking into her neck. 'No,' she hisses, flinching away with what seems like great reluctance. 'Dude, that's trashy.'

You almost feel like you should be offended. 'Excuse me?' you say, giving her an extra hard nip as revenge.

'I didn't say you were trashy, I meant- jeez, you're so frustrating,' she breathes against you, into you, between kisses up her neck. 'I know exactly what you're doing. And I hate that this is working on me, you _asshole_.'

She reaches between your bodies and pushes on your forehead until you're forced backwards; she then flips you both over so you're now on your back. 'You need to stop,' Beca demands. Her chest is expanding and collapsing rapidly with her laboured breaths as she glares down at you. 'You're trying to distract me. I know you don't want to talk about it, but you need to stop doing this.'

' _That's_ pretty hypocritical, coming from you.'

That makes her falter. She sighs. 'I just want,' she says, 'all this _drama_ between us to just disappear. I want to be able to do thisand not have to worry about all the other shit.' There's her hand at your hip, pushing your shirt up. It's half trapped beneath you so she can only get it as far as your bellybutton but her touch snakes underneath anyway. A wave of sensation is spreading outwards from her fingers, hot and cold all at once.

'I want you,' she says sadly, 'but all of this stuff is making it really difficult to deal with that.'

You ache to soothe that note of sadness in her voice, and the pang of sadness in your _own_ chest. You can feel it building within you. The words, which you desperately do not want to say. But they won't stop coming, and any moment now you're probably going to ruin everything that you've worked so hard to build. Sweat breaks out over your back in your desperation and panic.

You wish you could muffle the words as they start emerging from your mouth by kissing her; she evades all further attempts, now just staring down at you. Waiting. The silence is oppressively tense, yet it's offering a willing podium for your thoughts at the moment. Try as you might, you can't squash it down this time, because a part of you _wants_ to know how she'd respond to this. To what you really want and have been holding back all this time because of how selfish it feels to voice it even to yourself. Because how could you ask this of her?

But it's night time and dark and this day has been so, so long. You're tired of worrying about what Beca wants more than what you want. Maybe this one time you can let yourself have something without guilt or worry about the consequences, whether that be Jesse finding out, or losing Beca as a friend, or losing the Bellas. Maybe it'd be okay just to share this one thing, for once.

'Stay with me,' you say. Your voice cracks right in the middle of that simple sentence, and all the way through those following it. 'Stay in Barden; don't go to L.A. Don't go anywhere. I don't want you to leave me.'

…

…

…

Your mind seems to go blank as you wait for Beca's response. It seems, to you, to take forever, and all the while your blood is thundering in your ears.

'… _What_?'

The word is whispered, only just audible over the sound of ragged breathing. But it still cuts right through you. That note of incredulity in her voice was plainly obvious even at the low volume.

'Chloe...' She swallows, sits back on her heels. 'I _can't_ do that.'

Beca opens her mouth to say something, again. This time, you don't want to hear it; you sit up and kiss her once more, knowing what the words are going to be anyway. Explanations. It's not the "yes" you wanted to hear, so frankly, you aren't interested. You can't hear anymore.

However, the sharp screech of a whistle cuts off whatever Beca was about to say; you feel her leg muscles tense in alarm on either side of your hips. Suddenly, there's a light shining in your eyes and the unmistakable sounds of a dog panting in your ear. Beca scrambles off you as you, dazed and confused, try to sit and work out what the hell is going on.

The two of you look up to see a man, dressed in the same uniform as Aubrey, glaring down at the two of you.

Beca mutters, 'You've got to be fucking _kidding_ me,' and you can only concur.

* * *

'I feel like I'm waiting to see the principal,' Beca says. She looks so tired in the poor gas lamp lighting in this room, with dark smudges under her eyelids and her pyjamas hanging loosely from her frame. There are scratches up and down her arms from where the rough ground rubbed against her. You shiver at the thought. 'Although my principal's office was never this fancy.'

"Fancy" is not quite the word you'd use to describe this place – "tacky" would be more your style. It seems as though whoever decorated this room really wanted to get the cabin-in-the-woods look down, but didn't quite have all the right ingredients, if the badly stuffed animal heads mounting the walls are anything to go by. The effect is altogether quite unsettling; briefly you wonder how Aubrey could have ever allowed such awful décor - but considering what you've seen of the company's modus operandi so far, maybe that's not too surprising.

'What do you think they're gonna do to us?' Beca asks. 'Detention? Expulsion?'

You know she's joking, but you are worried all the same. Not because you think Aubrey is somehow going to give you detention (although Beca's sarcasm in serious situations is as always, rather annoying), but because is likely to figure out the situation between you and Beca within seconds.

Beca clears her throat, leaning back against the backrest as she glances over at you. Her leg is bouncing nervously. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Oh, I see. So we're playing the "guess why Chloe's mad at me" game, huh.'

'I'm not mad.'

'The steam coming out of your ears says differently.' She waits, but you don't laugh. 'You're mad because of before, aren't you. When you asked me to stay here?' You don't respond to this either, even though you know she'll take it as a tacit yes. As expected, she does; Beca groans incredulously. 'Chloe, you can't be serious. I'm not staying here. And nor are you, for that matter.'

'I'm not talking about this right now. It's late.'

'Then when _are_ you going to talk about it?' She grabs your shoulder, forcing you to face her.

You try your best to keep your voice steady, despite the fact you avoid her gaze in order to do so. 'I've said what I wanted to already, Beca.'

Her eyes widen. 'So that was serious? Chlo, you're starting to scare me. Whenever I bring stuff up you shut it down somehow. I thought you were just kind of unsure about things, but you can't _actually_ want to stay in Barden, and for me to stay too… Right?' she adds worriedly, when your agreement isn't immediate.

You're only just keeping it together, and feel like if you make eye contact you're just going to burst into tears. 'I don't have anywhere else to go _,_ Beca.'

Her grip tightens on your shoulder. 'That's bull!' she snarls, with enough anger in her voice that you do actually turn to look at her in shock. 'You could do anything, Chloe. _Anything_. Why are you wasting your life here when you have so much freaking potential?'

'It _is_ my life, Beca! I don't have anything else. That's the whole point.'

The door bangs open; Aubrey enters, looking thoroughly irritated. Beca frowns at you, but lets you go, and you do your best to wipe your eyes before Aubrey notices and starts questioning you.

'James just woke me up to tell me that two members of my team were "trying to escape".' Aubrey's eyes travel over the both of you, taking in your mussed clothing and hair. Her lips tighten into a thin line. 'Something tells me he may have misinterpreted the situation.'

'"Escape"?' Beca says, with a spluttered laugh. 'Is this actually prison? I could walk out any time I want.'

'Safety first, Beca,' replies Aubrey briskly. 'We have to know your whereabouts in case you get caught in the bear traps. And yes, you could walk out if you wanted, but you're an awful long way away from Barden.' She settles down on a chair, crossing her legs. 'Chlo, I did tell you,' Aubrey chides you gently, 'sex _only_ in the designated areas.'

Your eyes widen. 'You were serious about that?'

Beca's head snaps up. 'Wait, what? How did that come up in conversation?'

'Never mind that,' says Aubrey, much to your relief. 'A better question is why you guys were out there in the first place.'

'Are you seriously interrogating us about this?' Beca folds her arms in a disgruntled manner, sitting back in her seat. 'Prison. I swear.'

'I prefer to think of it as a facilitation centre. But call it aca-school, if you want,' says Aubrey, smiling.

'No. I'm not gonna call it that.'

Aubrey shrugs. 'Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mitchell. In the meantime, I'd quite like an explanation.' You drop your head into your hands; your mind is swimming with tiredness and you barely feel like you know what's going on this conversation right now.

'Why do we have to explain anything to you?' snaps Beca.

Beca's tone seems to touch a nerve with Aubrey. 'Because I don't like the look of my best friend's face right now, _Beca,_ and I strongly suspect it has something to do with you,' Aubrey says, obviously speaking from between gritted teeth. You peek upwards, seeing Beca glancing sideways at you; your face is impassive, but you know that says as much as any other expression. However, you can't let yourself feel anything right now or you'll completely lose it.

'Ask her, not me,' grouches Beca, pointing at you.

Aubrey's hand touches your knee. 'Chloe?' asks Aubrey gently. 'What's wrong? What's going on?'

You feel like you can't breathe; it's as though you're on the cusp of something big, but you can't quite pinpoint what that is or what is going to happen when you reach there. Their stares are heavy on you, wanting you to speak, but all you can think of is the look of incredulity on Beca's face when you asked her to stay.

Beca uncrosses her legs, foot hitting the wooden floor with a thump. 'Well, as _fun_ as this awkward silence is, I'm going to go back to bed.'

'Hey, what makes you think I'm done with you?' Aubrey snaps, but you cover her hand with your own.

'It's alright, Aubrey.' You signal with your eyes that she shouldn't question it anymore, and to your relief Aubrey just nods stiffly after a moment's reading your expression.

'Last chance to be a grown up, Chlo,' says Beca, getting to her feet. She stands over you, imposing despite her short stature – her gaze hardened.

It's not like you don't _want_ to discuss this issue with Beca. Because you do. But even just revealing that small part of your desire to Beca – that you don't want her to leave, and wish she could stay with you – has backfired horribly. What she wants and what you want are so unlikely to ever coincide. And it's difficult, too, with Aubrey sitting right there, watching this all go on - her life so _together_ compared to yours, despite starting off in the same way, and in the same place. You're the one that's lagged behind and not been able to catch up. You're the one that can't move on.

You can ignore all this all you want, but doing that is rapidly starting to blow up in your face. Both she and Beca know what path they want to head down, and you don't know if that necessarily involves you. That's the size of the situation.

Fuck. You can feel yourself welling up and the lump rising in your throat. In an effort to hide this you stare down at your lap; you hear Beca scoff derisively. 'Fine,' she says. 'Then if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed.'

Beca leaves with barely a backwards glance at you, shutting the door behind her with enough force to make you wince. Aubrey murmurs disapprovingly at this before moving her gaze to _you_. 'Now,' she says. 'Would you like to explain to me what's going on?' You shake your head silently, and Aubrey groans. 'What are you _doing_ , Chloe?'

'I'm not doing anything.'

Aubrey snorts. 'Oh yes, I believe that. Did I not tell you to be careful?' Her tone is scolding, patronising, even - as though you were a small child who messed up at school. You wonder if this is how Aubrey's father talks to her. 'Don't you remember what happened to Janice and Tabitha back in sophomore year? There was anarchy when they broke up and each wanted custody of their pet cat! I told you, dating your Bella sisters can only lead to misfortune.'

'It's not like she's going to be my "Bella sister" for much longer, is it?' you say bitterly. 'She's leaving. Me _and_ Barden.'

'… And naturally, you hate that,' Aubrey says, the realisation appearing to dawn on her face. 'Are your feelings for her that strong? Have you fallen for her?' You wince, and Aubrey sighs in understanding. 'Or… Don't tell me you're in love with her…?' It's more of a command than a question; you can't exactly lie to her, but neither can you tell her the truth. The way she sucks in a breath at your lack of response is not particularly comforting, either. 'Well then. That's certainly… difficult,' she replies awkwardly. 'But not to worry, I'm sure it can be managed.'

' _Managed?_ I don't want it to be _managed_ ,' you say, picking moodily at a loose thread on your pajamas. 'That sounds like it's something bad I need to keep under wraps. I don't want it to be managed; I want it to be easy.'

'And what does Beca want?'

'She wants that too… I think,' you reply. 'But she doesn't want to stay in Barden.'

'Why do you sound so surprised about that? I'd thought that Beca was always quite clear about where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to do.'

'Honestly, I'm not surprised at all. It was a long shot in the dark asking her to stay in the first place – I never thought she'd say yes, but…' You sigh. 'It still _majorly_ sucks that she said no.'

'I know, darling.' Aubrey slips her arm around your shoulders and gives you a quick hug. 'But eventually you're just going to have to let go of that idea and work out something new with her. Eventually, you're going to have to let go of Barden, and the Bellas. You can't keep holding onto this. Time's running out.'

Time's running out, she says – like you're not already aware of every second that ticks by leading towards graduation and the Worlds. Towards Beca leaving you. It lingers in the back of your mind like some demonic countdown; a voice screaming at you to hold on tight to what you have left still. Because pretty soon, none of it will exist anymore.

You get to your feet; your legs feel like they'll barely carry you back to the tent. Aubrey seizes you before you can get too far. 'Is it Chloe-walking-out-time now too?' she barks, a hint of the old Bellas captain coming through. But you're too tired to be bossed around tonight.

'I need to go to bed,' you reply in the most measured tone you can, even as you yank your wrist out of her grip. 'And you should too - we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow if we're going to get the Bellas to top form again, no?'

'I'm not sure if you've noticed Chloe, but this _might_ be a bigger issue than just the Bellas.' She puts her hand to her forehead, silently praying for strength. 'God, this is going to be a mess tomorrow, I can see. You're so stubborn.'

'So is Beca,' you reply, already opening the door to the cabin. 'But in that case, we'll just have to see who'll crack first.'


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: _A message to the anon who left a review about me using single quotation marks (''):_ **

**I wrote about this on Tumblr but thought I'd also add a thing here. Basically, although many Brits don't do use single quotation marks in their personal writing, it's extremely common in actual publications and grammatically, perfectly acceptable. But thank you for taking the time to comment anyway!**

 **I'm going to discuss this a bit more but please don't feel like I'm singling you out, because that isn't my intention; compared to some messages I've had on this issue you were pretty constructive. However, you were unfortunately the final nail in a very exasperating and sometimes upsetting coffin for me, so I feel the need to comment on it once and for all instead of letting it slide.**

 **I've been writing fic for many years and over time gotten a fair few reviews about using single quotation marks. For what seems like a small issue to me, nonetheless I often get reviews that question my intelligence, writing ability or even my moral standing. To each their own. Anyway, normally I reply and explain politely if people are logged in, because I get that people are trying to be constructive. I do really appreciate that - I study Linguistics and I'm a huge nerd so I genuinely would enjoy an actual discussion about this topic haha :P**

 **Still, some people that message about this do not login, so I can't reply, or they instead send me rude messages on Tumblr (far rarer). I delete these but as you might guess, these are the ones that get to me most. At one point in the past I was even referred to as a 'retarded bitch', so, you know... I think I'm at least somewhat justified in being hurt by how people choose to approach this.**

 **In any case, from now on I'm gonna be including a disclaimer before fics to solve this problem. If anyone was offended by my use of single quotation marks, yet decided to continue reading, thank you for persevering despite my grievous affront to American writing standards.**

 **(that's a joke, by the way. Love you all, and again, thanks to the anon for flagging this issue and generally leaving a nice comment regardless)**

* * *

As a rule, you _try_ not to get angry at anyone. You're more of a silently simmer-and-frown kind of girl, maybe cross your arms if the other person is really unlucky. Sometimes it all gets on top of you and has to come out in a rush, but far less than the jokes about your hair colour would lead people to believe.

It's been another long day, filled with way more physical activity than you had anticipated. The Bellas are taken aback as well; like you, they had expected to just sing a few songs, do a few teamwork exercises, and that would be it. However, true to form for Aubrey, she has you all jumping into mud pools and swinging on ropes. You're glad for it. For one, being so busy means Beca can't try and corner you about last night's conversation again, and you don't have to feel guilty about not initiating it.

Second, focusing on your tired, aching body distracts you from your tired, aching mind and your stark awareness of Beca judging every aspect of this trip. While she does join in with the activities, she doesn't need to say a word out loud to make her disapproval perfectly clear. You can already hear her protests: why are we singing these songs? Why are we doing these exercises? Why are we here? Every sour expression she makes feels like a silent attack on _you_ , because you were the one that convinced her to come along. You were the one that was convinced it would fix whatever rift had emerged between the Bellas.

It was your last resort and the only chance at making Worlds again, you thought. Only it isn't working like it should. There's still tension bubbling beneath the surface, in between songs and jumping into the lake. The Bellas not gelling like you normally do, and you _can't work out why._

It takes a long while to work it out, but eventually you realise the reason. It happens during one of your breaks, which occurs not because Aubrey scheduled it but because around two in the afternoon all the Bellas simply flop in a pile on the ground, protesting.

It's when Aubrey says brightly to the pile of groaning bodies, 'When you're all rested, we'll enter phase two of your rehabilitation!' that Beca snorts. Quietly, but you know you were supposed to hear. It's meant to anger you, and bait you into yelling. As it is, you don't respond, and the girls are all too tired to notice what's happening. But you're starting to realise that the rift, and the tension which you've been worrying about is between you and Beca. Which means it's not going to go away unless you face it dead on. And once you realise that, although you try to hold out, even singing can't take away the foreboding feeling in your belly.

One wrong move, one wrong look in Beca's direction, and you know you'll either burst in tears or yell at her. What's worse is knowing she _wants_ you to blow up. You can sense the frustration building in her, too, whenever she glares at you as she takes a sip of water or brushes mud off her legs. If there's anyone who knows how to get under your skin with even trying, it's Beca, but whatever comes of _this_ situation is not going to be pretty.

And your prediction turns out to be horribly right: she lets slip about the supposed 'more important things' she should be doing right now. Maybe you weren't meant to hear that, but considering how long Beca's been keeping this secret from you, it seems unlikely. And try as you might, when you find out about Beca's internship keeping the fake smile on your face seems like a monumental effort.

It's when the truth _finally_ comes out about what Beca's been hiding from you that your façade starts to crack in earnest. Because you know full well what it means, and the reason why she's been hiding it from you for all this time – 'God forbid I have something going on outside this group,' she says, after all.

God forbid she have something more important than _you_ , or the team and reputation you've spent the better part of seven years trying to build and maintain, is what that really means.

'Okay, so why would you keep something like that from us?'

It's an easy question to answer, actually. She hasn't told you, because she feels guilty. She thinks you wouldn't understand. She says as much: 'Because you're obsessed! You all are. We're graduating and the only person thinking about life after the Bellas is me.'

'What is so wrong with being focused on the Bellas?' you snap. 'This has been my family for seven years.'

'Yeah, 'cause you're too scared to leave - sack _up_ , dude!'

You flinch at these words, as Cynthia Rose yells – very unhelpfully - 'Girl fight!' from the background. Unfortunately, this isn't a normal spat for the two of you; she's really lost her patience with you now. She hasn't seemed so angry or fed up with all of you she walked out after semi-finals – and if you don't say something now, she's probably just going to walk out again.

'Okay, so you've been lying to us for the entire year, and now you're just going to flake out?' You can feel your voice cracking as you speak; fury is right around the corner, but not yet. First there's just crushing disappointment; much as you want to be angry with Beca, in reality you're just sad. ' _Now_ you're going to flake out, when the Worlds is like, right after graduation?!'

Both of you know the Worlds is the least of your troubles right now. 'Oh my God, enough about the Worlds. I can't – I'm out of here.'

'Oh, okay, you're just going to leave now?!' Something in the tone of your voice must catch Beca's attention because she turns back to look at you briefly. Beca is already walking purposefully away, her patented dramatic exit, but she shouts back, 'We all have to eventually, Chloe, it might as well be now. And if you all knew what was good for you, you'd follow me.'

In that moment, where she looked back you can plainly see all the frustration and anger visible from her contorted features. But to your surprise, this isn't Freshman Beca you're looking at, who lives life always half-shrugging and saying to herself, ' _Oh well, I knew it would go bad from the beginning anyway_.' Freshman Beca would have checked out emotionally a long time ago, and found it easy to walk away. But Beca isn't who she was back then, because unlike last time, she actually _wants_ you to follow her when she leaves. And you are not the Chloe that rolled over when Aubrey constantly belittled you, nor the time you kept quiet when Beca walked away from you the first time. You had been angry then, too, but you held back for fear of losing Aubrey.

Not this time.

You're about to step forward. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue – 'Get back here right now, Mitchell,' and 'How dare you walk away from me,' and 'Why are you giving up on me?' - when the trap activates. Beca's scream pierces through your rage and for one terrifying, bewildering moment you think something truly awful has happened (a gunman could totes have appeared at the lodge; you wouldn't be surprised with Aubrey). But once you realise she hasn't died and Beca is reasonably safe, albeit panicking at being so high off the ground, your heart returns to its normal rate.

And if you smile just a little at the fact Beca is now at your mercy, _well_. You've always been a fan of irony. Unfortunately you don't get to savour that feeling for long, since you kind of need to start saving Beca's life, like, _now_.

Worrying someone might die really does put a dampener on arguments.

* * *

Once Beca's been unceremoniously dumped back on the ground, thanks to Lilly, you finally feel like you can catch your breath again. You hold back as the others help pull the netting off and Lilly drops down onto the ground beside her. Beca slowly crawls onto her hands and knees, looking winded.

'You okay?' you ask her, voice tight, but still reasonably kind, you feel. It's probably more than she deserves right now, but you are nothing if not a forgiving, compassionate person. 'You're not hurt?'

'Only my pride,' says Beca, rubbing the back of her hand over her sweaty, pale face. 'Although I think my life just flashed before my eyes… I seriously watch too many cat videos.' Beca gets to her feet, gingerly testing out both legs; when she's satisfied that they're both intact, she looks back up at the group with an expression of chagrin. ' _Sooo_ , I'm guessing another dramatic walkout wouldn't work too well right now, huh.'

'Try it and see,' you growl, folding your arms.

'Thought not.'

You feel a light touch on your back, and look around to see Aubrey. She was unusually hands-off during this whole incident with the trap, which you suspect may have been part of some scheme to force the Bellas into teamwork; clearly, she did not factor Lilly into the equation. 'Take five, Bellas,' orders Aubrey, dismissing the others with a wave of her hand. 'I think some one-on-one counselling may be required.'

You hear a few comments like 'Counselling, is _that_ what they call it,' from someone that sounds suspiciously like Amy. However, most of the Bellas are too grateful for rest to complain much as they traipse away. They're probably content in the fact that you and Beca are just having some "creative differences"; with a little time, they probably imagine you'll kiss and make up/out, and ultimately produce your best collaborative work yet just in time for Worlds.

You on the other hand, are not so sure that is how it will end. Now you're alone – except for Aubrey, who decided to stay – with Beca, the emotions you'd tamped down previously in the face of possible danger start to rise to the surface again. Anger didn't last long at all; now you know what Beca had been keeping from you and it's beginning to sink in exactly what that means, confronting this situation is the exact opposite of what you want to do.

'Any chance we could have a normal, mature conversation about this?' asks Beca, but she promptly snorts at her own words. 'What am I saying, nothing about us is mature. Go on then, let me have it. Chloe? Aubrey?' She spreads her arms out, looking martyred.

You're no more eager to get into another fight than Beca is, but another breakdown seems only inevitable at this point because you're just so _tired_. All your muscles are sore, including your throat and mud is still clinging to places it should never cling despite having already tried to wash it off several times. Even now Beca's rolling her neck to work out a twinge in it. This is not the best time to talk about it, but you know full well Beca is _not_ going to leave it this time. You've put it off too much already, and now all possible chance of discussing this at a time favourable to you are exhausted.

Internally giving in, you shut your eyes and take a steadying breath for a moment. 'An internship,' you say quietly, when you open them. 'In that case, I'm guessing you weren't actually sending out demos.'

Beca has the grace to look sheepish, at least. 'No, not exactly,' she admits. 'I _did_ show my boss some stuff, but he wasn't too impressed. He told me I need to think of something original, but, uh. Turns out I'm not very original, so.' Distress flashes momentarily across her face, knitting her eyebrows. However, she pulls her expression back to neutral again with remarkable speed with only a glance back down at the floor. It's as though it never happened. You're glad, because you aren't sure you could muster the energy to comfort her right now.

'You could have told me. Actually, you _should_ have told me.'

'I wanted to,' she says; when you make a sceptical face, her eyes roll up in a self-deprecating manner. 'Well, sort of. But I didn't want you to think that I wasn't giving it my all to the Bellas.'

'Then you failed on that end,' you reply shortly. 'Because I thought exactly that.'

'Yeah, my bad.' She grimaces. 'I guess that, compared to all this record company stuff I've been dealing with, the Bellas just seems… I dunno, fake, somehow? Oh, that sounds bad,' she exclaims, slapping her forehead. 'Forget what I just said.'

As if that would work. 'How can you say that? You know how important the Bellas are, especially to me.'

'Yup, knew you'd react exactly like that.' Beca sighs and now takes a moment to think about her words. You wish she had done that in the beginning. When she speaks again, it's slower and carefully enunciated, so you know these are the words that she actually wants to say to you. 'I know it's important to you. It is to me, too. But outside of college, Barden, and the Bellas, there's this whole other world that I think you're missing... Stuff that could be important to you too, but you'll never know because you're too scared to find it. And frankly, dude, it's sad.'

As Beca talks you're oddly aware of Aubrey watching these proceedings, and the strange feeling of shame that brings – knowing how Aubrey moved on and got her life together, while you're still stuck behind everyone else. You can feel your ears burning, and hot prickles of embarrassment running up and down your back. 'Can we talk about this some -' you start to say desperately, wanting to relocate. However, Beca incorrectly predicts that you were actually asking to drop the topic. She throws up her hands in exasperation.

'No, we can't talk about it some other time!' she snaps.

'Let me finish. I wasn't trying to change the subject,' you respond, trying your best to keep your tone even and neutral. 'But I'm just not sure this is the best time or place to discuss it.'

'What's wrong with here?' says Beca. ' _You_ tell me when's good, because whenever I try to bring it up, you change the topic.'

You're starting to feel rather queasy, but Beca isn't letting up; she actually begins to pace, now shooting comments at you rapid fire.

'But hey, maybe _you_ don't have actually to worry about this, and that's why you keep dropping it. For all I know, you'll stay here forever and never graduate. But for the rest of us poor assholes who can't stay here, who have to go out into to the real world, we gotta face the future. We have to face all those things like jobs, where we're going to live and potentially being alone forever, _even though_ it's fucking terrifying. Even though it might all just blow up in our faces.'

You glance over in terror at Aubrey. You're expecting some sort of judgement on her face, but as ever, she just gives you a small, encouraging smile. 'You don't think I'm scared of all those things too? Getting a job, moving away from my friends, being alone? Beca, I am _terrified_ of all those things… If I wasn't, I wouldn't still be here.'

'Yeah, I'm well aware of _that_ ,' she shoots back snidely. 'But I'm not like you. I can't just stay in the Bellas, at Barden, forever. Jeez, I've already lost enough time not heading to L.A. after Freshman year -' Beca breaks off, but that's more than enough for you to feel like you've just been kicked in the gut.

'So you feel like you've wasted time with us. Is that it?'

Beca shakes her head fervently. 'Hey, that's not what I said. It's not that it was wasted time, just… Ugh.' She kicks a clump of mud out of the grass as she paces. 'This isn't where I thought I was gonna be right now.'

'Why not?' you ask tentatively. Talking about Beca is comparatively easier, but has a much bigger chance of blowing up in your face. 'You have an internship with a prestigious record company. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?'

'What, having all the opportunities in the world but no _ability_ to take them?' she says scornfully. 'Well, they can have it, because for me, it fucking sucks. And that's why I get so angry watching you… You're the opposite, you have all the ability but you're not looking for opportunities. Do you know how frustrating that is? I am not done,' she adds, holding up a hand, when you try to speak. 'It's Beca ranting time.'

Inwardly, you groan. You get the feeling this has been building in her for a while, and now rather regret ignoring the conversation this long. Beca has a tendency to bottle emotions – the same way you do – but the results when she does can be more… _Explosive_.

' _I'm_ scared,' says Beca. 'I know you are too. But do you want to know what the difference is between us?' She pauses, obviously waiting for you to confirm. 'Hello?'

'Oh, I can talk now?'

'Jesus Christ. Yes, you can talk.'

'What's the point when you seem to know everything about me anyway?' you respond dully.

'The difference between you and me,' she presses on determinedly, 'is that even though I'm scared, I'm still trying. I'm still sticking my neck out there.'

'You don't think I'm not?'

'No, Chloe. I don't. Or you wouldn't have failed Russian Lit _three times_ just so you didn't have to face reality.' Beca comes to a stop, now glaring at you. 'You know what annoys me the most? What you said to me, last night, was the most open you've been about the whole thing. And it was _still_ dumb as hell. You asked me to stay, when you _know_ I can't.'

Again, you glance nervously at Aubrey, thinking of the conversations you had with both Beca and Aubrey last night. Aubrey is no longer smiling, but simply looks worried now.

'You don't want to face reality because you're scared shitless,' says Beca. 'That's the size of it. Right?'

There's a tremble starting in your knees and spreading upwards through the rest of your body, because Beca's words are hitting hard, carefully crafted to cut right through you. You know that's what Beca wants: to pull your head out of your ass. But the process is painful. 'What's the reality?'

'That you're too good for to just be heading some college acapella group. You're too talented to be wasting your life away, here. And…' Her voice turns small. 'And I don't want the only way we can stay together to be if _I_ stay here too. I can't do that, Chloe, I seriously can't.'

 _Now_ you feel like you have the full picture of how Beca feels. She's brought this topic up many times but you've never quite been sure why she suddenly became this insistent, after so many years of keeping quiet as you repeatedly failed in order to stay on at Barden. And now you know: it's because it actually affects her now. She's not really worried about you holding _yourself_ back; she just doesn't want to get held back by you.

But that's fine. It's totally fine. You knew all this was going to come to an end somehow; people like Beca don't just fall for you without some caveat. You can't move, and she can't stay, so you were going to have to part eventually. You feel like she's cracked you open already and now she's just grinding salt into the wound; all your functions, physically and mentally, feel exhausted.

If she wants to leave, you wish she would already.

You've been quiet for the last few moments. For once Beca hasn't tried to backtrack on her words in that uncomfortable silence, so you know she must mean them. You unfold your arms from where you've had them wrapped around you, now hanging loosely, limply at your sides. You've never felt this… defeated.

You say, slowly, 'If I have actual talent, then how come you haven't let me work on an arrangement with you for ages?' She doesn't have an answer for that one – her mouth makes shapes for sounds, but nothing comes out. 'That's what I thought.'

'What does that have to do with anything?'

'Oh… Well, everything.' You wipe away a tear gathering at the corner of your eye. You don't have time to cry right now, but they seem intent to gather and fall without your consent regardless. 'I don't have anything left without you or the Bellas. Everyone's moving up in the world, and what am I doing? "Wasting my life away" on "some college acapella group". Yet even then, I'm not doing a good job of that, am I? You're right, Beca – _you're_ the sound, not me.'

When Beca's face goes pale and Aubrey's head swings around to face Beca accusingly, you know you picked your words well. 'Chloe, when I said that -'

'No. I know what you meant. And it's true. I don't really know what I bring to the group anymore. I don't have anything to offer.' You hesitate, the words you thought a short time ago already springing like bile in the back of your throat. 'I'd only hold you back, wouldn't I?'

'That is _not_ true.' Surprisingly, it's Aubrey who speaks this time, tone icy – but not at you, because she's actually glancing at Beca right now with narrowed eyes. 'Chloe, you've always been the backbone of the Bellas. You're wonderful at making choreography, and you have such an ear for music. I don't know anyone that can match pitch as well as you do. If Beca's not been fully utilising your skills, that's Beca's problem, not yours.'

'Y-yeah, right,' says Beca, snapping back to the present. She's just been staring at you with an expression akin to panic on her face. 'Aubrey's right… Strange as that is. You wouldn't hold me back, at all. You add a lot to the group - it's not your fault I'm an annoying control freak.'

'Exactly,' Aubrey agrees. 'It's not your fault she's an annoying control freak.'

'Wow, okay. Coming from you, that's rich.'

'Your words, not mine.'

Normally their sarcastic banter would amuse you. Today, however, it feels so far away from your foggy brain that it fails to elicit even the tiniest glimmer of a smile on your face. They don't seem to understand what you're saying. You aren't just talking about the Bellas, but your whole relationship with Beca.

You've had enough of this. You're just considering making a run for the tents and sheet-burritoing in the whole thing when Aubrey softly calls your name. 'I think you should tell Beca what you said to me,' she says. 'What you said last night.'

Beca frowns. 'What's that?'

' _Aubrey,'_ you hiss, shaking your head. 'No.'

'Why not? You might as well get it out into the open. I think she needs to know, Chloe.' Aubrey turns to Beca. 'She doesn't want to be alone,' she begins, but Beca interrupts.

'Well I know that, she pretty much said that last night. But you _wouldn't_ be alone,' says Beca. 'We're all right there with you – or at least we _want_ to be. All of us! Right?' She looks over at Aubrey expectantly, who bites her lip. 'What?'

'Idiot. You're missing the point,' Aubrey continues. 'Which is that the one she wants there is you, for some reason. Yes, she's scared about losing the Bellas, but the thing she's more worried about is losing _you_.'

'Aubrey, stop,' you say desperately, but Aubrey cuts you off with a lifted hand.

'If you don't tell her, I will,' she threatens. You can't even speak, because fear seems to be choking your vocal cords; you can only beg Aubrey with your eyes, beg her not to betray you like this. When your silence produces no fruitful confession, Aubrey turns to Beca and says simply, 'Chloe is in love with you.'

It sounds so much worse out there in the open. True, it _had_ been what you were hinting at, but to say it so bluntly, and in this environment, is not how you had imagined telling Beca. You had hardly been ready to admit it to Aubrey, let alone Beca; this is far too soon.

And despite it all, you still look up at Beca through wet eyelashes. Still hopeful.

The words have stopped Beca in her tracks. 'What? Is that true?

'It's plainly obvious,' says Aubrey, snorting.

'Shut up,' snaps Beca. 'I want to hear it from Chloe. No more secrets,' she adds softly, because she seems to know you want to protest and deny everything just to protect yourself. 'Is that true?'

'…Yeah.' It comes out as a broken whisper. 'It's true. I know that's pathetic… But that's how it is. I didn't just want to stay for the Bellas. I wanted to stay for you.'

You feel like you age about five years in the astonished silence between your statement, and when Beca laughs incredulously, 'Wow.'

You're fully aware she's not laughing _at_ you – that's not Beca's derisive, sarcastic or making-fun-of-you face. She's legitimately surprised to hear those words come out of your mouth. But the very fact that's surprising to her is overwhelming to you. It's not as though you hoped she knew. It's possible she just needs time to process, but you were still hoping her immediate reaction would be to jump into your arms, kiss you, say she loved you back and she'd stay with the Bellas forever.

Obviously not. You know how stupid that is, but it doesn't stop your heart twisting in disappointment when that isn't the outcome you get.

Beca's right. You _don't_ want to face reality. Especially if this is what it's like.

'I can't think right now.' There's too much going on in your your head right now and you honestly feel like you might throw up at any moment. 'Can we take a break from this?'

'Chlo, wait, I wasn't laughing at you,' Beca says in a panic, realising the effect her laughter has had.

'I know, I know. I just… Need a break,' you say, clutching your head which feels like it's going to explode. 'Just this… arguing. All this discussion. I need to think for a bit.'

You feel Aubrey's arm slip around your shoulders, holding you up. You sink into her gratefully, half burying your face in her neck . 'I'll take you back to the tent.'

' _I_ can take her,' Beca says indignantly, but Aubrey shoots her down.

'You both need some space.'

'Well then what the hell am I meant to do?'

'I don't know, take a walk,' replies Aubrey distractedly, already beginning to leave. 'Both of you need to process.'

You can hear Beca yelling something as Aubrey supports you on the walk back to the tents, but you tune it out. 'I'm so sorry, Chloe,' she whispers to you unhappily, as she all but carries you away. 'I really thought that would work.'

You did too.

* * *

You enter the tent with Aubrey to find the girls flopped haphazardly on the tent floor. When Aubrey demands they all leave the tent so you can rest, Amy groans. However, she quickly falls quiet when she sees that Aubrey is half-carrying you. They move so there's a spot for Aubrey to deposit you in and kneel beside you. You feel this kind of coddling is a tiny bit over the top, but protesting would take too much energy – and you'd be lying if you said the attention wasn't a little bit enjoyable.

'What's wrong with her?' Emily is worriedly trying to take your temperature with the back of her hand. 'Oh God, she's burning up. Does she have a fever? Is it malaria?'

'Chloe's just exhausted.' Aubrey smacks Emily's hands away from you. 'And she's hot because she's been in the sun. It's nothing to worry about. A little rest and she'll be fine.'

'Where's Beca? Did you guys argue? Did she leave?' asks Cynthia Rose. This gets everyone's attention, typically; you roll your eyes.

'No, she didn't leave, but I'm sure she'll be in here snooping sooner or later,' says Aubrey. 'In the meantime, I think Chloe needs some privacy.'

Amy whines, 'Where are we supposed to go?'

'I don't know, anywhere but here,' replies Aubrey impatiently. 'Just watch out for the bear traps, we don't need any more being set off.'

'What if we want to stay and make sure Chloe's alright?'

Aubrey groans, fishing something out of her pocket. 'Here, take my key for Lodge A.' When Amy seems sceptical, she adds, 'They have bathrooms.'

Amy looks as though she's been given gold. 'Sorry, Chloe, I can't resist the lure of actual toilet paper. '

Stacie is the only one who hesitates before leaving, squinting suspiciously at Aubrey. 'Are you _sure_ she's okay?'

'She'll be fine. She just needs a few minutes.'

'It seemed serious,' she argues worriedly. Stacie kneels down, and gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she does so, she whispers in your ear, 'Whatever Beca said, I'm _sure_ she didn't mean it. But make her work for the apology anyway.'

This makes you smile. 'Thanks, Stace,' you reply hoarsely, accepting another kiss before she leaves. The tent is quiet with just you and Aubrey in it now. You feel a little bad for Aubrey having kicked them all out when they were trying to rest too, but you really do feel both physically and mentally exhausted after the day's activities. As much as you desperately want to fix things with Beca immediately, you just can't handle the rest of that conversation without breaking down.

You wonder what Beca's doing. Did she try to leave after all? Or is she blowing off steam somewhere as well?

'Are you going to be okay?' You make a half-hearted movement of your shoulders, barely having the energy to shrug properly. Aubrey sighs, and gently smoothes her hand over the top of your head. 'It'll work out. Like my father always says -'

'No offence, Aubrey,' you interrupt, 'but I'm really not that interested in what your _father_ always says right now.'

'Right. Well, I'll leave his adages to another time, then.' Deprived of this, Aubrey seems unsure of what else to say to you. Sure enough, 'I'm not sure what to tell you, Chloe.'

'You don't have to say anything.'

'I know, but I feel like I _should_ know how to comfort you,' Aubrey says, frowning. 'I'm just so unused to seeing you like this. You used to be so carefree and optimistic, and now it seems like… You're scared all the time. When did you start becoming that person? Did I miss it?'

She sounds so scared about that prospect. 'It's always been there,' you say dully. 'Only… I can't seem to hide it as well as I used to.'

'Why do you think that is?'

You think you know. Somewhere along the line, Beca stopped being the antsy freshman who you had to force into new experiences or she'd spend days making mixes without once seeing sunlight. She got confident in herself and her music to the point where she became to one trying to force _you_ into new experiences. You're fine with showing people your bubbly exterior – you can display that freely – but what's beyond that… Not so much.

You got her to open up to you. But you forgot that meant _you'd_ have to open up to her too.

'Beca,' you say, eventually. 'She brought it out of me. Because she's always known. Because she's always been able to see right through me, all the way down to the bits I don't want to show anyone else.'

'And you hate that,' says Aubrey, smiling sadly.

'And I _really_ hate that.'


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So here we are, final chapter! Pretty sure an epilogue will happen, but it's not quite finished yet - it's a tying up loose ends thing. Can't say when it'll be done, but hopefully soon c:**

* * *

You know Beca is going to come eventually - it's only a matter of when. In the end you get a glorious fifteen minutes lying in silence with Aubrey, so at least you've had _some_ time to reset yourself, and stop feeling like the whole world is spinning around you. She's had nothing more to say, only stroking your hair in an attempt at comfort, while you stare at the tent ceiling and fight back the burn of tears.

You wonder whether she's going to get in trouble for not working - she insists it's 'technically part of her job', which seems like shaky reasoning. Nonetheless, you're glad for her presence. Just thinking of yet another argument with Beca kicking off when she inevitably arrives makes your skin crawl. If Aubrey wasn't here to stop you, you might have tried to pull a Beca and run away from the campsite. Maybe you could steal the bus? You don't actually have a licence yet, but it can't be _that_ hard, surely...

When the sound of the tent unzipping eventually comes, your breath catches and Aubrey's grip tightens on you - but it's just Emily. You're simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

'What now?' says Aubrey, aggravated.

Emily goes pink, still unused to Aubrey's commanding tone. 'Sorry to bother you,' she all but squeaks, 'but the Bellas told me to deliver this.'

You turn, curious about what she could possibly be delivering. Emily disappears for a moment; you hear rustling and raised voices, and after a moment, Beca flies through the opening of the tent, caught in the netting of the bear trap.

'Jesus Christ!' Beca yells. It loses some of its impact considering she's currently faceplanting the floor of the tent. 'Was this really fucking necessary?!'

Aubrey looks like she's trying not to laugh. 'You tied her up?'

Emily pops her head back in and makes a concerned face when she sees the position Beca is in. 'No,' replies Emily, sheepishly rolling Beca onto her back and starting to disentangle her from the netting. 'Lilly fashioned a lasso out of the netting; Amy just threw it over her and we carried her over here.'

'And she fought us the whole way,' you hear Amy say from outside, sounding petulant. 'She's a real bruiser, that one.'

'I was _already_ on my way here,' Beca grumbles, shoving the final tangles of netting off her body and rolling away from it. 'You didn't need to kidnap me. Also, twice in one day? Not cool, guys.'

'Seems they were just speeding up the process,' says Aubrey. 'You do have a tendency to dawdle.'

'I was giving her time. I thought that was what I was supposed to do?'

'Yes,' says Aubrey, 'but I did think you'd try to stick your nose in sooner. To be honest, I'm almost impressed with your restraint.'

You're not sure when you bought a ticket to the Aubrey and Beca Show, but right now you wish you were watching anything else. Emily seems to feel the same way: she mumbles, 'That's my cue to go then.' You give her a grateful smile, which she returns as she ducks back out of the tent.

Beca shakes her head. 'Whatever,' she says. 'I have no idea why _you're_ angry at me, Aubrey - I'm here to talk to Chloe, not you.' In all the commotion Beca's hair has fallen from the bun she had it in earlier; it swings, straggly and unbrushed, as she crawls to a safe position in the tent. And then instead of sitting neatly with her legs neatly folded beneath her like Aubrey, she sprawls her legs out in front of her. They're such different people, but they're both glaring at each other with distrust distrust. Beca because she wants Aubrey to leave; Aubrey, because she doesn't want to leave you.

Beca breaks her staring contest with Aubrey and instead looks over at you. She claps her hands together, smiling in a falsely cheerful way. ' _So_! Do we paint each other's nails and talk about boys now? Or girls, I suppose,' she adds on an afterthought.

'What are you doing?' asks Aubrey, her eyes narrowing.

'Just making conversation.' She combs her fingers through her hair, making a face at how it feels. 'This is gross. I'm gross. Are there seriously no _actual_ showers here?' she asks, referring to the outdoor shower you all had to make do with to wipe the mud off.

'There are. All of the other Bellas were meant to be making use of them right now, but presumably they had other ideas.'

'What?' Beca exclaims. 'You never told me that.'

'You're welcome to join them, if you want,' says Aubrey, with a pointed arch of her eyebrow.

Beca looks sorely tempted, especially when she hits a knot in her hair during her finger-combing. However, she shakes her head. 'Nah, I'll just stay here continuing to stink up the tent,' she says. 'If Chloe's alright with that, I mean.' They both turn to you expectantly. You simply shrug. 'That's informative.'

'She can leave if you're uncomfortable, Chloe,' Aubrey assures you, making Beca bristle.

'Did you ever think the reason she's uncomfortable is because _you're_ here?'

'Don't be ridiculous. I'm Chloe's best friend; of course she's fine with my presence.' They look at you again. You just shrug once more in response. Beca lets out a snigger _,_ while Aubrey appears put out. It's not the answer she wanted to hear, you know, but that shrug is an accurate summary of how you feel currently.

'Do what you like,' you respond dully. 'I'm not sure I care anymore. Everything suddenly seems rather meaningless.'

Beca snorts - but not in a disparaging way, you know. 'You're so dramatic, Chlo. You gonna break out the angsty poetry?'

'Don't be mean,' Aubrey scolds.

'I'm not. I'm trying to make her laugh.'

'Well, does it look like it's working?'

'Ha,' you say, monotone.

'Yes.'

'That doesn't count.'

'Ha- _ha_.' You try to keep a straight face, but make the mistake of meeting Beca's gaze. She's openly grinning at you, with that one expression that tells you she thinks you're being a complete dork, but she loves it. You fail at holding back your giggle.

'You're both complete idiots,' Aubrey says, rolling her eyes. She sighs. 'Speaking of idiots, I should probably go check on the girls. I'm putting my neck on the line letting them use those showers as it is - knowing them, there's already been some form of property damage.'

From her expression, you know she's feeling a bit useless - you reach over to clasp her hand for a moment. 'Bree,' you murmur, 'thanks.'

You do your best to put as much feeling into the word as you can; she seems to recognise the gravity of the statement. 'That's quite alright,' she says, beaming as she gets to her feet and smooths out the creases in her shorts. 'Glad I could help.'

'Did you really?' snarks Beca.

'Less of the cheek, Beca. I may not be your captain anymore but you're on my grounds and I can make you run laps – or worse, understand?' In the face of Beca's glower, she smirks. 'That's better.'

'That would just be mean after everything else we've had to do today.'

'It'd be more than you deserve, I assure you.' Aubrey checks her watch. 'It's probably too late to start up another activity now, anyway. I should start getting ready for the Cleansing Campfire.'

Beca turns to you, confused; but you have no more idea what Aubrey is talking about than she does. 'Do I even what to know what torture that is?'

'It's our final event,' explains Aubrey, 'where we celebrate all your accomplishments this weekend and your newfound ability to work together. We then symbolically burn away your previous dislike, jealousy, and/or feelings of homicidal rage at your colleagues in the form of marshmallows. As such I expect any lingering tension between the two of you to have dissipated by then, or else the marshamallows won't be the only thing we're putting on the fire.'

Having finished this – hopefully - scripted spiel, she grins, clasping her hands together.

'So do we all understand?' She surveys your alarmed faces. 'Yes? Lovely. See you then!'

'… Aubrey scares me sometimes,' says Beca, when Aubrey is definitely out of earshot. 'Although it's kind of cool how she's made being terrifying into a career.'

You smile weakly. 'It does suit her, doesn't it?'

'I still think she would have made a better cartoon villain, but whatever. Do you mind if I lie down?' Beca asks, with barely a moment's pause between the two topics. 'My body feels like the Trebles minibus backed over me.'

When you agree, Beca flops down on her side. Somehow, this puts her hand in the perfect spot to land directly on your own, fingers slotting into the spaces between yours. You can't help but laugh from surprise, because you hadn't expected Beca to do something so cute – or so corny.

'Sneaky.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' she says, at the same moment beaming and giving your hand a little squeeze. You know she's trying to reassure you that you haven't ruined things entirely, in her own Beca way. It's comforting.

You still squirm, however, not sure how to begin this conversation. Feeling awkward around Beca is not a sensation you're used to. '… How are you?'

She chuckles. 'Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that?' she says, propping her head up on her elbow. 'FYI, I'm sore as hell from all the torture Aubrey has put us through today. But I'm good besides that. How are _you_?'

You ponder this question, warily surveying your current state of mind while trying not to engage in any of the less than pleasant thoughts it's generating. 'Is "fragile" an emotion?' you ask eventually.

'I dunno. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're feeling made up emotions.' Her thumb brushes yours so lightly you might have imagined it. It's strange to you, how careful she's being in her movements towards you, as though scared she's going to frighten you off. It feels like such a reversal from how things were at the beginning of your friendship.

'So, is this the lesbian drama Cynthia Rose warned me about all those years ago? Oh yeah,' says Beca, reading the expression on your face, 'she told me to never date a woman because of it. And then argued with her ex-girlfriend over text for the next two hours.'

'That sounds like CR.' You sigh, stretching out your legs from the cramped fetal position you've been in for a while. 'I don't want drama. I think we've had enough for a lifetime already.'

'Well, that's a dilemma, because I don't want any either.' Beca hums pensively. 'Does that mean we can't keep dating?'

This comment takes you aback. 'Is that what we're doing? Dating?'

She looks disturbed at the very fact you're asking. 'Well, duh. Or do you always kiss your friends? Actually, don't answer that; I've seen how you are with Stacie.'

She's smiling so sweetly at you, chuckling at her own joke. Trying her level best to make you feel better with those dorky comments that are just so _Beca_. Not acting like everything is fine - because both of you know that the current situation is far from it – but acting like everything _could_ be fine, if she can just get you to smile again.

But _is_ it going to be fine? Fuck knows, is your mind's blunt answer to that. You feel like you're dangling on the edge of some precipice, clinging for dear life over a dark, unknown void. It seems to you that everyone has been trying to stomp on your hands to make you let go, when all you really want is reassurance that the drop isn't that large after all … Or at least that someone is going to support you when you do finally let go. Maybe Beca is finally trying to provide that now.

You can feel it all welling up within you again. The exhaustion. The humiliation and disappointment. You're so tired of letting everyone down – you can tell yourself you're used to the looks on your parents' faces when you say you're staying at Barden for yet another year, but that sting never really leaves you. Or when your professors groan when they see you back for another semester. Or when your friends discuss what they want to do after college with such bright, excited looks in their eyes. Meanwhile, you avoid all instances of that topic. On top of all that, you don't even want to think about the monumental amount of debt you've put yourself in or how you're going to begin to pay that back.

That's the kicker, really; you've _never_ wanted to think about any of this. It was easier to stay in Barden, where it was familiar. With your friends, and acapella, and Beca. Pining over Beca from a distance was familiar to you too. It was almost comforting in its consistency, because over time you got used to Jesse and your jealousy. Knowing it would never happen. Except then Kommissar entered the picture, and it _did_ happen, and now you have her. Despite all the confusion and the rocky start, you're genuinely dating now. Beca just said so. And yet the only way you can keep her is to actually confront all the things you've been trying so hard to stay away from.

You don't really have a choice here, but that doesn't mean letting go doesn't completely terrify you and make a painful lump rise in your throat.

'Beca…' you say, her name getting swallowed up in a sob. She doesn't say anything more. She simply slides a hand to the back of your head, guiding you down into the crook of her neck so she can hold you as the dam begins to break.

'It's okay,' she whispers into your hair, gently rubbing your back. 'I'm here, y'know? I mean, I stink of mud and sweat, but I'm sure that's totally comforting.'

Every tear that leaks down your cheek and seeps into her hair feels like it's draining some vital life force from you, until you're just a limp mess lying on the tent floor. You should feel a little embarrassed about how hard you cling to her, almost shaking Beca with the force of your own sobs. If nothing else, you're glad you have your face tucked into her shirt because you're beginning to ugly cry - that's not an attractive sight for anyone.

'Jesus, Chlo. You're gonna make _me_ cry soon.' You remember her saying these words to you, on that day when she kissed you for the first time. As ever, that all feels like a lifetime ago; you almost feel like you would gladly trade being confused about Beca's feelings for how you feel now. Although the assurance that she feels the same way now is comforting, adult decisions are looming, and you're not at all keen on that prospect.

'I'm so scared,' you admit, teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip at the admission. Just saying the words, moving your jaw and tongue, seems to take monumental effort. You know Beca is aware you don't just mean in this moment – to some degree, you're acknowledging how terrified you've been this whole _year_. The past few years, even. Maybe forever.

'I know,' replies Beca. Her voice is low and serious, yet somehow still soothing. The way she speaks every word against your skin sends a pleasant buzz down the back of your neck. 'I know.'

'What're we going to do?'

'Well, _that_ I'm not sure of.' You let out a noise of distress at her words. But then she says, 'We'll figure it out together.'

'How do you know?'

'Well. That's obvious. It's because I won't have it any other way.'

The statement is paired with a nervous little scratch of Beca's nails at the back of your neck, and a stilted laugh. She's worried too, you can tell. She's trying so hard though, and you can tell she means what she says. You're still not sure you can trust Beca completely on this issue, but it can't be any worse than feeling as alone as you have up until now.

'… Okay,' you say. Finally, you relax the tiniest bit, allowing your body to sink into hers. You're still crying, but the force of your sobs is gradually lessening to a slow, sad hiccup every few seconds. She's right there, tightening her arms around you.

'Yeah?'

'Yep.'

'… Okay, cool.'

'What are talking about again?'

Beca half laughs, half sighs in relief, ruffling a few strands of your hair. 'That you're okay. I was starting to worry. I don't know if you've noticed, but apparently I'm way better at yelling at people and sending them into a breakdown than I am at comforting them after the fact.'

You can hear the guilt in her voice and feel her legs shifting next to yours in discomfort; a more bodily version of her usual self-deprecating wince. 'You did fine,' you assure her. 'And it wasn't you driving me into a breakdown. It was… the situation.'

'Which I added to.'

'Maybe. But anyway,' you say in as bright a tone as you can manage (not wanting to linger on this topic), 'Dating?'

'Dating,' agrees Beca; she then adds quickly (and nervously), 'I mean, if you're cool with that, obviously. Jeez, maybe I should have asked properly – is there some sort of ritual when it's two women?'

'Ritual?' you ask, amused. 'What, you mean you haven't sacrificed a goat to the gay gods in exchange for my hand?'

'No. I ate a bagel the other day, does that count?'

You snort, burying your face into her neck to muffle your laugh. 'Sure, Beca. Now you've eaten a bagel, we're dating.'

'It had cream cheese on it, though. Is that gonna be a problem?' she says apologetically - knowing you _hate_ that stuff. You wrinkle your nose at the very thought.

'I guess I'm just gonna have to put up with it,' you say with a dramatic sigh. 'By the way, there's no ritual as far as I'm aware. We just do whatever we feel comfortable with.'

'Well, I feel comfortable with us dating,' Beca says, with unexpected boldness; this seems to surprise both of you, because she coughs awkwardly straight after saying it. 'Okay, not a sentence I ever thought I'd say to you.'

'I never thought I'd hear it from you.'

Beca hums in agreement. 'This is so weird – if you'd told me all _this_ would happen when I blurted out a few awkward lines to some German beauty queen, well…' You make a face, and even though Beca can't even see you, she somehow knows it's sour. 'Still jealous?'

'I was never _jealous_ , per se,' you reply defensively. 'But all the same, it's hardly fun knowing someone _else_ made you realise you're into women, instead of the one you're… dating.' The word feels strange in your mouth, but you the smile that tugs at your lips won't be suppressed.

'Eh, I can't feel too bad. If I hadn't made a fool of myself that day and made you jealous – sorry, "not jealous" - we may never have got this far.'

You chortle. '"That day", you say, like there was only one time you made a fool of yourself…'

Beca shoves your shoulder lightly. 'Yes, yes - Beca is an idiot who doesn't know how to start relationships properly, blah blah,' she says grumpily. 'We got that.'

'Do you regret it?'

She blinks, brow furrowing a little. 'That's kind of a weird question to ask considering I basically just asked you out.'

'Well, do you?'

Beca ponders this question a little too long for your liking, but you realise she's just trying to give you a full answer. 'No,' she responds eventually. 'Not at all. I mean, I wish I'd gone about it differently, so I regret _that_ , but… Everything that came afterwards has been pretty cool.'

'Even with the arguments?'

'Even then.'

Beca gives you a shy, lopsided smile. You smile back, but something is still on your mind. 'Why _did_ you kiss me?'

She seems taken aback by this brusque question. Even you're not quite where it came from, only that it's been playing on your mind for a long time.

'Um, I'm not really sure,' she says. 'You were crying. And you know I hate when you do that. It's like watching those ads about abandoned puppies and kittens. It's so sad.'

It's not a particularly flattering comparison. 'You said you didn't return my feelings.' The statement isn't meant to sound accusatory, but you can't help it. 'You _literally_ told me outright that you didn't feel the same way I did.'

'In my defence, I honestly didn't think I did back then,' says Beca, grimacing. 'I wasn't lying when I said that originally, I swear.'

'Why kiss me, if you didn't feel that way?'

Beca groans, rolling onto her back to put some distance between the two of you. You roll onto your side, but it's not quite the same; you immediately miss the contact. ' _I_ don't know. I seriously don't. You were crying and I just panicked, thinking I'd fucked everything up. I just wanted to fix things.'

She kissed you because she wanted to _fix_ things? If anything she made things ten times _worse_ by doing that. You can only stare at her with your mouth open. 'Beca, that's…'

'Yeah, I know. It's colossally dumb. We've covered this before,' she says irritably. 'I wasn't thinking. While you were talking though, telling me off for confusing you, all the while I was wondering, well, _do_ I have feelings for you? I had no idea. It was a spur of the moment thing. I ran off because I got hit by a truckload of feelings and thoughts I couldn't really process with you there.'

'Oh my God, Beca…' You butt her shoulder with your forehead in annoyance. 'Do you know how much you confused me by running off like that?

'Yeah well, I was confused too. In my defence, the whole thing with Kommissar seriously did mess with my head. That, and I'm just an idiot.' Beca feel her chest expand and contract where it's touching your forearm as she sighs deeply. She cocks her head to the side as she raises an eyebrow inquisitively. 'Actually… You wanna know something else I did that was dumb?'

If that's not ominous… 'What?' you ask suspiciously. 'Did you hit on some other German woman?'

'No!' Beca nudges you with her foot. 'God, no faith in me at all. No, you remember when I didn't come home for a few days? Before Jesse and I broke up… Before all this.' You nod, already not looking forward to this story. 'I almost spoke to Jesse about us. _Actually_ , he was the one who brought it up.' She smiles darkly at the shocked look on your face. 'I know – I was shocked too.'

'What happened?'

'Well, he knew I was avoiding you and going home for some reason, but he didn't know why. He wanted me to go back and make up with you, saying I was moping about and it was frustrating to watch. But obviously I didn't wanna go back, and he kept asking why – what did we fight about that was stressing me out so much? And…' She shuts one eye, bracing herself for some impending blow. 'I _may_ have told him that you had a crush on me.'

Your jaw drops, and you shove her slightly; it was probably a good idea for her to brace herself. 'What? Beca! Why would you do that?'

'It seemed like a good idea at the time…'

'Beca, I swear…' You sigh. 'And? What did he say?'

Beca bites her lip. 'He seemed… amused.'

' _Amused_?'

'I don't think he got why I was stressed about it – he just thought I was uncomfortable with the idea of you being into me. It annoyed me, to be honest with you, since obviously I couldn't tell him the _real_ reason we'd fought because I was too chickenshit. And when I eventually _did_ tell him what was going on… It sucked, watching all the pieces come together in his eyes. Watching him realise.' You're about to ask for clarification but Beca's already read your mind. 'Watching him realise that I was falling for you.'

Your eyes widen, but Beca is still going on, ruining the moment. Typical.

'I mean, that I _am_ falling for you. Or, I've fallen. I fell? Whatever is the most appropriate tense, I dunno, I'm not the best grammarian.' She pauses. 'Does that make a lick of sense, or am I just talking garbage?'

You swallow, reaching up to cover her hand with yours. 'You've really fallen for me?'

'Is that so surprising?' Beca scoffs. 'First you didn't know we're dating, now this.'

'You don't exactly talk about these things,' you say, affronted. 'You have to be clear with me or I'll just assume the worst.'

'Well, I'm telling you now.' She meets your gaze and says dramatically, 'Chloe, I've fallen for you. Falling. Fell.' Beca giggles ( _actually_ giggles, who would have thought that would be a thing?) when you groan and push her a little.

'Be serious.'

'I _am_ serious,' she replies, even though she's grinning like a madman. 'And to be honest it's not that surprising. I mean I only had to kiss you once before I was trying to throw everything I'd known for the past few years, right? Even though it was fucking terrifying. Even though it would have been way easier to just truck on with Jesse to L.A., I still ended up _here_. With you.' She shrugs. 'And I'm _pretty_ happy about it.'

You suck in a breath, assessing the weight of this statement. Beca really has given a lot up for you. 'You're braver than I am.'

'It's not really brave,' she says. 'Brave makes it sound like I had some level of control over it. In reality it was more like… An inevitability.'

'An inevitability?'

'Yeah. When I kissed you, it was like waking up. It's hard to go back to sleep when you know what the real world is like.'

'That's oddly poetic, for you,' you say, even as your heart is currently doing its best butterfly impression and fluttering madly in your chest.

'Oh, shut up.'

'What cheesy romance novel did you pull that one out of?'

'Oh my God,' she cries, turning her face away from you. 'That's the last time I try to be romantic, I swear.' You lean in closer, trying to push her head back so you can see her again; she opens one eye, and somehow manages to glare with it. 'Nope. I'm mad at you.'

'I bet I can fix that.'

Beca scoffs. 'Oh yeah?' All you do is look up at her through your lashes, with your best (which is quite effective if you do say so yourself) attempt at a seductive gaze. It works fairly well. Her smile drops off. You feel her throat undulate with a swallow beneath your palm when you cup her face.

You've had quite a few kisses with Beca over the past few months, each with their own particular "flavour". This one feels the lightest thus far, and the easiest to sink into; no worry about impending arguments, or Beca freaking out and running away. Even if any of the Bellas came in right now you would probably just ignore them, because this – _this_ kiss is the one you've been waiting for. The swell of her bottom lip fitting not quite perfectly against yours, but the pressure somehow still making you feel lightheaded. Beca's fingers gently touch your shoulder, before growing more confident and placing the full flat of her hand on your skin. She slides her fingers up into your hair, snagging slightly in all the physical activity borne tangles. For once you hardly notice, because _finally,_ a kiss that doesn't make you want to sob while eating disgusting amounts of ice cream.

And when Beca breaks the kiss off _this_ time, she seems … winded. You are too, but it's much cuter on her, when her cheeks are glowing red and her mouth is all swollen. When she catches your eye and sees how you're smirking, she promptly hides her face in your neck. You can sense her rolling her eyes, despite the fact you can't see her.

'I think I like girls,' she says in a mock conversational tone. The words are half smothered into your skin, but you can feel her lips curve up against your collarbone in a smile. 'Or at least you, I have no idea.'

'You don't need to know.' But you can't help yourself from grinning upon hearing that, as you nuzzle into her and drop a kiss on the top of her head. 'But, join the club.'

'Do I have to do something to mark it? Cut my hair? Wear more flannel shirts again?'

'You know, Cynthia Rose would totally slap you right now for perpetuating stereotypes.'

She snorts. 'Oh please, girl's a walking cliché if I've ever seen one. And she takes full pride in that fact.' Beca stretches out her legs alongside yours. Her feet don't quite sit at the level yours do; her toes skim your ankles and the bottom of your shin instead. 'How are you feeling?'

'Still fragile,' you say. 'And wondering if maybe you're right.'

Beca nearly clips your face as she thrusts her arms up triumphantly. 'Hallelujah!' she cries. 'The day has finally come, thank the Lord. I'm actually right about something.' She pauses. 'What am I right about, again?'

'About… staying at Barden.'

It's almost worth all the aggravation you've gone through to watch Beca's eyes grow rounder now. She's normally not so forthcoming with her feelings if they're not sarcasm (definitely an emotion for Beca) or general exasperation, but you can see that she's excited now. 'Hold up,' she exclaims, 'are you finally thinking about graduating?'

'Maybe.' You ignore Beca's mini dance party next to you, where she deliberately nearly clips your face _again_ doing some kind of celebratory arm flail. 'I know, deep down, I don't want to stay at Barden forever. I do want to move on, it's just… I don't know what to move on _to_.'

Her expression doesn't change one iota, frozen into happiness.'It's not like you have to know exactly where you're going. Just that you're not gonna stand still.'

'Don't I?' you say skeptically. _'You_ do.'

'Yes, but that's me - I've known what I wanted to do since I was fifteen, dude. That doesn't mean everyone does. In fact, I think if you asked the other Bellas they'd say they don't know either... But they're willing to give whatever comes their way a shot. You could too, if you wanted to.'

As you're pondering, Beca is getting up onto her knees, stretching her back out with a grunt and a small pop. 'Speaking of the Bellas…'

'We should probably get back to them sometime soon,' you agree.

'Probably. I mean,' she says hesitantly, with a small frown, 'if you think we've resolved our drama enough. I figure since you've just said you want to graduate now that we have, but we can continue talking if you want?'

She holds out her hand to you. You're unsure about taking it, but when you do, it feels oddly… comforting, and hopeful, in spite of the fact you can feel how clammy Beca is too. It's strangely fitting.

'I think we'll be okay.' you say with a smile, causing Beca to groan with relief.

'Oh thank God. I have to say, I wasn't looking forward to being thrown on a campfire.'

You laugh, accepting final kiss from her when you sit up. Her hand cradles your cheek briefly, radiating heat; her other fingers squeeze your briefly. 'I don't know,' you tease. 'I think you would have made a delicious s'more.'

* * *

Over marshmallows and a campfire, the sappy friendship talks begin. You explain to the Bellas what the hell has been going on, recapping – with some skimming of details here and there such as what you got up to last night or in the tent earlier – what you were fighting about with Beca. Slyly, you drop in a reference to the fact you and Beca are dating now, and are rather miffed when no one but Aubrey beyond a nod. Apparently this relevation is not a surprising one, but you'd have thought at least some form of congratulations would be forthcoming.

Still, Aubrey squeezes your shoulder and smiles at you... All while telling Beca if she hurts you, she's going to capture her in the bear trap and use her as a piñata for future team building exercises.

'Mm, should I be doing this protective thing for you as well, Beca? After all, I am your bestest, most fabulous friend...' She turns to you, expression serious. 'Chloe, if you don't put out enough… Well, I probs won't do much, because that seems like a lot of effort I'm not really willing to put in. But for my sake, please give up the goods regularly because I don't want to walk in on Beca having lady jam time. Cheers.'

She takes a bite out of her marshmallow.

'... Thanks, Amy.'

With that "settled", conversation rapidly returns to the topic of Beca's internship, and why she decided to hide it. The fact that the question is really about why she didn't tell _you_ goes unspoken. 'I didn't really _intend_ to keep it a secret,' says Beca, looking sheepish. 'It just kinda happened, because I'm a dumb dumb and that's what I do… When I decided to stay at Barden instead of going to L.A. initially, I'd been worrying that I missed my chance to get myself out there - so when this internship came up I wanted to make sure I made the most of it. I didn't want to blow it, and I also didn't want anyone to _know_ if I blew it.'

You didn't know about any of this - that Beca had been worried about staying on at Barden.

'Ooh, I get that,' Emily says, surprising everyone. She goes a little pink in the face at the attention. 'The being worried about messing up thing. I mean, when you guys all leave I'll still be here trying to rebuild the Bellas and live up to the name you've already made for us.' She blinks rapidly down at the campfire, rubbing her palms over her thighs. 'I don't want to let anyone down. Makes me feel really young… And small. I know how you feel, Beca.'

'You _are_ young, Legacy,' says Amy. 'And you're about the size of my right leg.'

'No, I understand what Emily is saying,' Aubrey cuts in. You're somewhat relieved that someone is continuing the conversation, instead of it getting swallowed up in Amy's jokes. Much as you love them, they do sometimes derail serious conversations. 'Don't worry - I'm sure you'll make a _fantastic_ captain next year, Emily. And even though you'll have a new family next year, whatever happens the rest of us will still be right behind you.'

Aubrey doesn't have to look in your direction for you to know she said those words for you as well. Emily practically glows at Aubrey's praise. Naturally, she deflects the attention away from her quickly by adding hurriedly, 'Beca's gonna be a great music producer some day, too!'

'I hope so, Em,' says Beca, sighing. 'When I'm sitting with you guys it feels so easy. But it's just, everything's changing so fast, and I'm putting all this pressure on myself, you know? I don't wanna fail…'

'If you'd just would have said something…' you can't help mumble, a tad reproachfully. She did tell you half the story – clearly wanting to let you in to some degree, but ultimately unable to. wanting to let you in, but ultimately couldn't. Thinking of how you could have helped her out or at least reassured her that she did have a voice in there somewhere that was waiting to come out. Beca is one of the most creative people you know.

'Yeah, I know, but I'm weird about that stuff,' says Beca, half laughing. That's an understatement. 'Thought I could figure it out on my own and I can't. Maybe I don't have anything original to say… I wish I could do what you do,' she adds, directing this last part to Emily.

Watching Emily and Beca talk – Beca in her typically aloof way, and Emily in her typically overexcited way – as they organise a collaboration for the future, you begin to feel… strange. You don't think jealousy quite fits (you're well acquainted with that feeling, after Jesse and Kommissar), but if you had to name it, it's perhaps something akin to wistfulness. It's been too long since you partnered up on anything musical with Beca, let alone anything original. It's something you miss dearly, and something you worry you may never get to do again outside the confines of the Bellas.

However, something Beca says sticks in your head: 'It's for life.' It's those words repeating in your head which make you finally speak up about your feelings. Somehow, it feels harder telling the others how scared you are compared to when you told Beca - however, Amy's snarky comment hits you harder than you thought it would. Although you've always known subtlety is not your strong suit, it's alarming knowing they've _all_ known you were falling apart. Perhaps your fears are just a punchline by this point.

But then again, you think, as Aubrey takes your hand, and you feel the weight of Beca's stare on your back. Maybe they havetried to help. Maybe _you_ just didn't want to listen.

You take a breath, and, unsteadily, you get to your feet. 'Then it's decided,' you say, voice sounding much more confident than you feel in that moment. 'This year, I will graduate. The Worlds will be my swan song.'

You can see the others looking a little skeptical, even Beca. You're not surprised; you would be too. In fact, you're still unsure deep down, despite your insistence that you truly mean it. 'I'll pursue my passion. I'll teach underprivileged kids how to sing, or I'll dance exotically…' You can feel yourself losing confidence under their stares. 'Whatever… offers the most money.'

You're half joking during that last part, because honestly you have no idea what you want to do. However, listening to the other girls, you start to realise that _they_ have no idea either. Only Beca is the one that knows the direction she's travelling in, and even then there's a chance it might not lead anywhere. Maybe it doesn't matter so much where you go, as long as you're not standing still, and as long as you have the right company.

As ever… Beca always knows what you're thinking.

'You know, when I look back on this,' she begins, voice low and melancholic. 'I won't remember performing or competing. I'm gonna remember you weirdos.' She doesn't look up from her hands, beyond a few glances. 'It makes me really sad to think it won't ever be like this again… I'm gonna miss you guys.'

You wish you hadn't sat so far away, because you want so badly to hold her hand right now, or do something stupid like kiss her until she's not sad anymore. You have to help somehow, but a topic like this won't be easily changed or avoided anymore. However, no one else seems to be saying anything. The silence is beginning to drag as the full weight of those words, echoed by the other Bellas, starts to sink into your bones.

You start slowly with the first line, wary of Beca rebuking or laughing at you because it's such a corny, _you_ thing to do. Indeed, Beca does roll her eyes as she sings the next line with you, but the grin on her face is involuntarily wide, almost embarrassed at how much she's loving this moment. But she does love it.

It only takes a beat for the others to join in too, and this is why you love the Bellas so much – despite how different you all are, the sense of community and family. These girls are your sisters and best friends (or in Beca's case, your girlfriend). For better or worse they've been there for you. It really is time for you to pay that back by moving on and letting new people in, so they can experience that same feeling as well.

As the song comes to a close, the idea hits you suddenly. You know _exactly_ what you should do at Worlds: you just hope Emily and Beca will be willing to help you out with it.

Beca is staring into the fire; the way her gaze flicks up slowly and meets yours is nervous and unsure, but you can still detect the (slightly bemused) excitement in it. There's Freshman Beca in there somewhere, looking back at you with breathless wonder after you've performed your first mashup; already anticipating all the new possibilities and musical combinations. Although you're both older, you can still see through Beca as well as you ever could, because you feel exactly the same way.

There are more possibilities than just musical ones now, and you can't wait to explore them with Beca.

'Did… we just find our sound?'

'I think we did.'


	12. Epilogue

'Everything must come to an end... Even the Bellas.'

That's the very _last_ thing you want to be hearing out of the mouth of one of your biggest rivals right now. If only because despite it being Kommissar's usual shit-talking before a performance, it's much more true than you'd like to admit. Now, if _you'd_ been the one to say that it would have been philosophical and poignant, but from that bottle-blonde harpy, its only purpose is to rile you up. You're ashamed to say it's working.

Especially when said woman cupped your girlfriend's face. And rather than knocking her away, a dazed Beca had just murmured, 'Your hands are so soft.'

Typical, really. It's nearly time for your final performance together as a group, yet somehow, Beca still finds time to accidentally flirt with other women. You watch, arms crossed as Beca turns to jello and forgets about her loving, patient girlfriend that she spends hours making out with on a regular basis. Seriously, what is it about this woman? What does she have that you don't, besides the height, accent, talent...

Whatever, your hair is better, you decide. At least you're all natural. And your boobs are _awesome._

(Although, maybe you should start moisturizing more.)

As she walks away, Kommissar catches your eye, a muscle pulling in her face that hides the barest glimmer of a smirk. She knows exactly what she's been doing, the bitch. You swear, as soon as this performance is over, you're going to shove the trophy in her arrogant face. And then make out with Beca right in front of her just to rub salt in the wound. In fact, even if you lose you're going to do that, because Beca's definitely the better win out of all of this.

On the other hand, your "prize" isn't really acting like one right now. 'Ha!' Beca shouts defensively after Kommissar. 'Your sweat smells like cinnamon – dammit!' Beca throws her hands up in frustration at herself, letting out an exasperated breath. You clear your throat pointedly; Beca jumps as though remembering she has a girlfriend for the first time. She flushes (whether in shame, guilt or embarrassment, you're not sure) as well she should.

'Good try,' you tell her mildly, arms folded across your chest. 'Maybe one day you'll actually remember I exist _before_ she sticks her tongue down your throat.'

'Okay, I know that looked bad, but in my defence, I don't like cinnamon.' She's lying, you know, because you've seen Beca scoff down cinnamon bagels more times than you've sang Whitney Houston. And _that_ is saying something.

You raise your eyebrows. 'Is that all you have to say?'

'I'm sorry and I promise I won't do it again?'

'That's a start,' you reply. 'Keep trying.'

'Uh...' She has to think for a bit, which is somewhat insulting, but very Beca. 'She's nothing on you? I don't deserve you?'

'Getting there.' You point your finger in her face, inches from her nose. 'But don't think you're out of the dog house.'

Her eyes widen in panic, and she glances sideways at all your friends who are watching with interest. 'You're beautiful, and your hands are way better than hers?' she mumbles, clearly shy about saying such things with an audience.

However, Emily intervenes. 'Okay, I really don't wanna know anymore about Chloe's hands,' she says, shuddering. 'I mean, I'm sure they're lovely, but no. It's like thinking about my mom and dad having sex.'

'... I really think you bring that up too much to be normal,' says Amy, frowning. 'Besides, there's nothing like a bit of lesbo drama before our last performance. Never thought I'd say this, but I might actually miss it.'

'Don't worry, Amy, next time Chloe and I argue I'll call you so you can listen in.'

'Or Cynthia Rose can,' Stacie adds. 'I'm sure married life for lesbians has like, ten times more drama. Speaking of, have we ever even _met_ your fiancée?'

'Sure you have,' she replies. 'You remember Denise, right?'

A ripple of shock passes through the Bellas. Jessica and Ashley are the only ones who don't look remotely surprised, along with Emily, who just seems confused. Of course - she never met Denise. 'Jessica, Ashley, you knew?' you exclaim.

'I thought everyone knew.'

'I told you at least three times,' says Cynthia Rose.

Emily asks timidly, 'Could someone tell me who Denise is?'

'One of our ex-altos,' you explain; Cynthia Rose interjects with, 'One of our _best_ altos.'

'Rude,' mutters Flo.

'Sorry,' says Beca. 'Still, you guys are getting married now? That's awesome, dude. Congrats.' Cynthia Rose grins in response, and she looks so happy that it brings a smile to your own face. You happen to glance at Beca as you do so - because your gaze is magnetically attracted to her - and of course it gets misinterpreted. 'I don't like that expression... Please don't get any ideas, Chloe.'

Stacie lets out a little squeal. 'Ohmigosh, if you guys get married, you _have_ to make me a bridesmaid.'

'Ooh ooh, me too!' says Emily excitedly. 'I love weddings. Oh, and we can all sing at the reception!'

'We're not getting married!' Beca shouts frantically. 'Stop making plans for our non-existent wedding! Focus on Cynthia Rose's instead.'

However, you clear your throat. 'Well, actually, Beca...' The others go silent, staring at you in shock as you slowly take Beca's hand in yours. She herself has gone completely pale. 'Listen, I was going to wait to ask you this, but I...' You trail off dramatically, holding the moment for as long as you can. But you can't keep up a straight face when Beca seems like she's going to throw up at any moment. '... I'm just kidding. It's way too soon.'

The others laugh, but Beca clutches her heart with one hand and hits you in the arm with the other. 'Oh my God, you asshole,' she wheezes, 'you actually scared the shit out of me then. I'm already worked up enough as it is.'

'Consider it revenge for all the stunts you've pulled with Kommissar.'

'Okay, _okay!_ Point taken.'

As the conversation finally dies down - minus a few jabs about Beca's panic over the prospect of marrying you - the sounds of DSM starting to wrap up their own performance start floating in. You're grateful for the useful banter with the Bellas, as it helpfully tuned them out and stopped you focusing on what's coming next. You feel the way you did back during your first go at senior year, way back when you performed at Nationals all that time ago. It's been too long since you last performed, and admittedly the last few live gigs you did were complete disasters. From the restless, uncomfortable way the girls are shifting around now, you can tell the nerves are starting to settle in for them too.

'I can't believe this is the end,' Emily says, voice hushed and barely carrying over the volume of the speakers. 'I feel like I've only just started becoming a Bella, and it's nearly over already.'

'Well, it won't be the last for you,' Beca points out. 'You're carrying on the Bella torch. You've got at least three years of this junk to come. Pun intended.'

'I know, but it won't be the same without you guys.' She can't even get the sentence out straight. You look around and notice that Emily's lip has started trembling. Cynthia Rose reaches out and pinches it, holding it in place.

She says warningly, 'Do _not_ cry, Junk - if you start then the whole group is going down. And I'm not going out there with my eyes all puffy.'

'Right, yeah. Sorry: happy faces. Got it.' Emily tries to put on a small smile, but she can't hold it for long. You have to look away because your own eyes are beginning to sting. It's funny that she's the one getting emotional when she's the only one still staying, but if she feels anything like you do about losing these girls, you can't really blame her.

It's not really _losing_ them, per se. You'll still be friends. The connection you've made with these girls isn't likely to fade away quickly, despite all the drama leading up to this moment. It's funny; considering how everything up until now felt like a series of never-ending obstacles, it's amazing how things just seemed to… _ease_ , following that trip to the retreat. You could suddenly understand things in class. The tiny little things that you used to get on your nerves so much just wash over you. Now you actually have somewhere to go after graduation, it doesn't seem as likely that your entire life will going to crash down if you don't win at Worlds. Whatever happens, the Bellas as you knew it will be disbanding – you might as well have one last hurrah, and enjoy it rather than stressing yourself out.

Or so you try to tell yourself. Of course, everyone's been saying exactly that to you for ages now, but it never quite sank in. You wonder if the real issue was you all along - if things could have been easy from the start, but you just had to make things difficult by getting yourself in a panic about nothing. Beca just snorted and threw a crumpled up piece of paper in your face when you mentioned this, because, 'You're only _now_ figuring this out, dude?'

Well, she can talk. Dating Beca is not all that different to being friends with Beca, in some ways – she's still moody when she's not eaten enough, takes far too long to tell you what's wrong, and she eats your cereal and lies about it. There's very little difference there, besides the fact that you can threaten to withhold unless she gets her own box of Cheerios. Not that that works anyway, because she still insists on lying – but _you always know._

At first, the lack of substantial change to your day-to-day life now you're "officially" dating Beca confused you. You'd always imagined life would be completely different, to the degree that you ever actually let yourself imagine the two of you could be together properly, anyway. You consider that it's possible you've been potentially almost-dating Beca for far longer than you thought, an oddly warming thought. The Bellas certainly seem to think so, at any rate. They didn't care for your attempts to sit them down and tell them what was going on ('We knew _ages_ ago, guys; Amy read all the dirty texts on your phone a while back.' She at least has the decency to look guilty).

Actually, most people reacted like that to the news you guys are together, at least on your end. Now you've graduated, your parents were too relieved you're not adding another year of debt to your growing financial belt to be bothered who you're bringing home. Not that they would have been bothered anyway; Beca is far from the first person, girl or boy, that you've introduced to your family. Still, she's certainly the smallest if your family's reactions are anything to go by ('Darling, are you _sure_ she's eating enough? Tell your brother to stop gorging himself and let Beca have seconds').

Beca, however, hasn't been quite so lucky. In recent times Beca has suddenly had to have a crash course in trying to awkwardly drop the fact she's in a relationship with another woman into conversation. It's a fine art, one she's never had to master before. Mentioning her boyfriend is far easier, and less likely to raise eyebrows or elicit questions about who the man is in the relationship.

The first time she managed to drop it into conversation successfully she actually texted you about it, all capitalised and fully punctuated, which counts for excitement with Beca.

 _Well done! How did you do it? X_

You were cringing before you even finished reading the text properly: _Oh, well Luke asked me for a pair of scissors and -_

Still, she'll learn, at least with people whom she doesn't really know very well. Beca's family, and Jesse, on the other hand, were quite another story. She can't just drop it into conversation with them – or rather, trying to do that would probably not have been the _best_ method. Surprising her dad with a sudden lesbian relationship probably isn't the birthday present he had been expecting.

Oddly enough it's you that ends up tipping Dr Mitchell off, completely by accident. You ran into him on the quad on your way back from the library (because to graduate you actually need to _study_ , and you definitely had a lot to catch up on). You both recognised each other at the same moment. Despite your efforts to subtly turn back in the other direction, he made a beeline straight towards you.

'Chloe!' he called, just to make it clear you couldn't escape. His smile had that pinched, slightly awkward quality that reminded you far too much of Beca. And once you made that connection you really wished you could _un_ make it, because seeing Beca's father in your mind when she smiles was so not your aesthetic. 'Hello! I wasn't expecting to see you.'

'Hi, Dr Mitchell,' you replied uncomfortably, shifting the stack of books in your arms. You'd always been on pretty cordial terms with Dr Mitchell. However, since you were now dating his daughter – completely unbeknownst to him - it was hard not to worry you'll spill something you shouldn't. Later you realise that wasn't an unfounded fear, but back then you just tried to not make eye contact, lest you blurt out something inappropriate about where your hands have been.

If you could have avoided talking about Beca you should have been okay, but unsurprisingly that's _all_ he wanted to discuss. You were just starting to wonder if he'd believe you if you said you'd left something in the oven (the... library oven...) when the topic of Worlds came up.

'And I hear you girls are off to Copenhagen soon!' he said, smiling. 'That must be exciting, eh?'

'Oh it is, Dr Mitchell.'

'I imagine that must be a lot of pressure, though... Competing in front of an international audience?' He frowned. 'I know you guys are used to the competitive lifestyle, but I always worry. How is Beca handling it?' It struck you as sad, or at least somewhat odd, that her own father was asking _you_ how she's handling it. He must read this from your expression, because he added, 'She tells me she's fine, but you know I can't read that poker face.'

You chuckled. 'She's okay. Nervous, I'm sure. But all of us Bellas are in the same boat, so we all supporting each other.'

'Well, I'm glad that she has you guys around her, I suppose,' he said. 'And Jesse.'

Your next comment kind of bypassed rational thought and came out of your mouth anyway. Even though you knew Beca hadn't told her dad about the two of you, you didn't realise he wasn't aware Beca and Jesse weren't together anymore. As such, you scoffed.

'Of course. I mean, if Jesse actually ends up coming.'

You quickly realised your grave misinterpretation of the situation when he blinked slowly at you and looked confused. And really, what would actually make you think Beca would have discussed something so important with her father? Honestly. How could you have expected something so _incredibly_ difficult?

'Why wouldn't Jesse come?'

You could only gape at him, open mouthed, because you honestly couldn't think of a decent way to get yourself out of this situation. It's not like you actually said anything about them splitting up; he just guessed from the look on your face. Thus, it's completely an accident and totally not your fault that you landed your girlfriend in a rather annoyed phone call from her father asking why on Earth she hadn't told him about the break up.

Beca glared at you the whole time, drawing her finger across her throat in a threatening manner while her dad berated her for keeping secrets and always being so closed off. You attempted to bake her cookies as an apology but she just bit into it viciously, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

In the end - after an hour of this - Beca just ended up blurting out, 'I'm dating Chloe now. Bye Dad!' and hanging up. She half threw her phone away from onto the kitchen island, staring over at you with panicked eyes. Only a few moments later, her dad started ringing again.

'Well,' she said, while her phone continued to buzz angrily, 'that went well.'

Thankfully, it actually did. Eventually you convinced Beca to call her dad back, and although he's understandably even _more_ miffed about the whole thing, he can at least somewhat understand her reticence now. And while you do get a few uncomfortable talks with Dr Mitchell and Beca's mother – since of course she soon found out from the family grape vine – they're nowhere near as awkward as the talk you had with Jesse. Even when Sheila stiffly asked a white-knuckled, and teeth gritting Beca, 'So, are you a… _lesbian_ now?'

The word seemed to alarm Beca somewhat; she had been tossing this subject back and forth for a while now. She looked at you desperately, pleading for you to change the topic, but you don't know how. All you can think about are scissors. 'Maybe,' she said finally. 'Maybe not. I like guys too, but it's not like other girls aren't…' She trailed off, going a little pink in the face when she met your eye. You were both thinking the same: Kommisssar. 'Anyway, Chloe's a girl. So I guess there's that.'

'Is she really?' Dr Mitchell had asked, sounding somewhat amused. 'I thought that was the whole point.'

Beca just rolled her eyes. She didn't appreciate you pointing out that deflecting tension with jokes seems to run in the family.

* * *

Thankfully, telling Jesse was a deliberate choice on Beca's part, despite the anticipated awkwardness. Beca insisted on you being in the same room as her this time. It didn't take long at all for him to work out, mostly because he's already guessed by the time Beca has sat him down very seriously on Amy's bed, and then joined you on her own. Your very presence probably tipped him off pretty quickly, anyway.

And, ultimately, his response was, 'Well. _That_ was fast.'

You could detect a hint of ice in his words, and it took a lot of restraint on your part not to fling something spiteful back. Especially when an expression of hurt flashed over Beca's face. But still all she did was mutter, 'These things happen, I guess.'

' _Right_ ,' he said. Jesse sounded calm, but his leg was bouncing, toes tapping against the carpet haphazardly. 'So that's why you were acting weird when you told me Chloe had feelings for you.'

Beca squirmed. 'Jess, I'm not gonna apologise for moving on. That's not why I brought you here, or why I wanted to tell you.'

'Then why did you tell me?' he demanded.'We're not together anymore, Beca. It's not like I have any say in who you date now.'

'Because I still want us to be friends, Jess, and I thought you should know first.'

'You want us to be friends?'

Perhaps Jesse didn't mean to say it so incredulously, but Beca still flinched.

'Of course,' said Beca softly, twisting her fingers together. 'You saying you don't?'

By that point, you were starting to regret agreeing to sit in on this conversation, because the tension was beginning to build and may spill over at any moment. You couldn't help but feel like you're being regarded as the villain here, despite the fact you hadn't done anything wrong. But you could empathise with how difficult this situation must be for Jesse – hanging out with your ex and her new girlfriend couldn't have been the most thrilling of experiences. You didn't even need to empathise with Beca and guess how _she's_ feeling, because you could feel every restless, distressed movement through the bed's mattress.

Jesse rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully, leaning back a little - considering the question. In the end, he avoided it entirely, which made Beca's face drop. 'So, I'm guessing you're not going to L.A. anymore,' he commented. 'Are you staying in Barden with Chloe indefinitely then?'

Beca bristled, but you were ready for a comment like this. 'I'm graduating this year, Jesse.'

He seemed mildly surprised. 'Oh, okay. Good for you. What are you doing after that?'

'You're not my dad, dude,' snapped Beca. 'Or Chloe's for that matter. You can't give any input on what we decide to do together.'

'If you didn't want my input then why bring me here?' he shot back.

'Because I was hoping for your support!'

'How can I support you if I don't even know what you're doing?'

'We don't know _exactly,_ ' replied Beca determinedly. 'We're gonna work it out.'

'You mean you don't know already?'

'What, am I supposed to give up on someone I care about because we don't have our entire future planned out on a whiteboard yet? Give me a break, Jesse.'

Jesse huffed, getting to his feet. Beca started to protest – you didn't, because you weren't too bothered if Jesse left at this point – but all he did was begin pacing.

'I just don't get it,' he said, frustrated. 'You've always known what you wanted to do. You wanted to go to L.A., become a music producer, get rich and famous. I thought I was gonna be part of those plans with you, but now I'm not - I get that. I understand, even if I don't like it. But what I _don't_ understand -' He directs this part at you - 'is why Chloe told me to tell you about my job offers in L.A. if she already knew that wasn't going to happen. What was that about? Were you just trying to be cruel for no reason? To rub salt in the wound?'

Beca started to talk; however, you stepped in this time, feeling awful that he could think you would be that mean to him. 'Don't worry, Jesse,' you said quietly. 'We weren't together then. I thought Beca would be better off with you, too: that's why I made her tell you.'

You heard Beca breath in sharply, murmuring your name. But you didn't turn to look at her because Jesse was staring at you; you stared back, not sure what he was trying to communicate or read from you. You' were fully expecting him to say something barbed, purely by virtue of how difficult this situation was. It would still have been surprising to you, because it was _Jesse_ , after all, who had never once been deliberately cruel or vindictive to either of you.

He broke first, and your faith in Jesse was proved to still be fruitful.

'Damn it,' Jesse grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'This would be a lot easier if you'd decided to date someone I didn't like, Beca. Some muscle-headed douchebag. Then I could just hate him in peace but _no_ , you had to go and date a girl I already know is pretty awesome, with frigging… _Bambi eyes_. I mean look at that!' he said, gesturing at you. 'How's a man supposed to be bitter and hateful when they've got that staring back at them?! Seriously.'

Beca chuckles, relaxing a little now the tension has been broken. You yourself felt your heartrate finally slow. 'No idea. I still struggle with it.'

Jesse suddenly let out a frustrated yell, making both you and Beca jump. 'Sorry, had to get that out,' he said sheepishly, now sounding calmer. 'It's been a _long_ year.'

'Tell me about it,' said Beca; you nod in agreement.

After a moment's thought, Jesse went on, 'Thanks for telling me, I guess. It's not really that fun for me to hear about, but I appreciate that you wanted to tell me rather than let me find out on my own. And I suppose if it was gonna be anyone, at least it's Chloe and not like… Bumper.'

'Gross, dude. That's Amy's territory.'

Jesse smirked, some of his usual cheerfulness finally poking through. 'Bumpeca. Becper?'

'Jess, _stop_.'

You had to look away from them grinning at each other, because there was definitely some lingering affection there. And just because Beca is _your_ girlfriend now doesn't mean you enjoy being reminded of the fact she wasn't always that way.

Thankfully, Jesse seemedaware of this too. 'If you don't mind, this is _really_ uncomfortable still, so I think I'm gonna head off.'

'Yeah, sure.' Beca watched him put his coat back on and start getting ready to leave, but you can tell there's still something on her mind. It was just a matter of waiting for her to get the nerve to say it. Sure enough, eventually she cleared her throat to get Jesse's attention.

'Jess, I…' Beca made several sounds, but nothing particularly coherent comes out. You had no idea what else she could want to say, so you were no help either.

'Out with it, Beca, I'm growing old here.' His tone was light, but you could sense he was somewhat agitated having to linger in this room.

She took a breath. 'Do you think you'll still come support us in Copenhagen?' asked Beca in a small voice. 'I know everything is… complicated. But it's a really big deal for me, and _us_. For Barden. And it'd be really great having my best friend there.'

Part of you protested: hey, aren't _you_ the best friend? But you realised voicing this childish concern definitely wouldn't help the situation, so for once, you managed to keep your mouth shut.

As for Jesse, at first you thought he'd just say no outright, but eventually he agreed to think about it. 'I can't make any promises,' he warned. But you know what Jesse is like – and if that's anything like you, he'd try his best to go simply because he wants to make her happy.

Typically, he couldn't just leave it there; he stopped in the doorway for one last dramatic speech.

'I'm not gonna lie and say I'm super fine and happy about all this,' he said, gaze shifting from yours to Beca's. 'because I'm not. I mean, I support you, guys, because I care about you. But it's still a little hard, you know?' He sighed. ' _But_ … I guess I did miss having my best friend around...'

You wanted to nudge Beca and remind her to breathe, but that might have been too obvious.

'And also,' he says, 'I already forked out on an airplane ticket to Copenhagen, and I'm cheap as hell.'

It'll be strained, but you hope that they'll get there.

* * *

DSM is finally done and are currently soaking up the attention of the Beca turns back from watching again. 'Okay, shake it off!' she says, in her captain's voice, but it's unclear if she's talking to herself or the rest of you. 'So, uh. This is the final performance, guys!'

The captain's voice cracks and she suddenly sounds oddly vulnerable. She looks to you, pleading for help, so you step in. 'We need to go out there and beat DSM!' You smile, making eye contact with each of them in turn. 'This one's for us.'

And of course, Amy has to get in there too. 'Guys, there's gonna be some haters out there. They're gonna look at us, Team USA, and be like, "Why is the most talented one Australian?". Well, guess what - I am fat, and that's close enough,' says Amy, clapping her hands on her stomach. 'We are gonna show them who we are - a bunch of ethnically diverse, for the most part feminine -' You see Cynthia Rose frown - 'amazing singers. Let's just get out there and _ac_ the world!'

Amy hip thrusts, leaving no ambiguity about what she really means; the girls cheer in response. you join in but as though you're on autopilot. The seconds tick by, for that is all you have left now. Beca nods to you; you nod back. The other girls nod too; one last signal to each other that it's going to be fine. That you all have each other. When the moment finally comes, and The Barden Bellas are called on, the familiar yank of anticipation beneath your navel is momentarily dizzying.

In your usual formation you run out onto the stage, still cheering, and take your spots. The shouts of the crowd, probably among the largest you've ever performed to (and certainly the biggest in the last year) fades into a distant roar in the back of your mind, while you begin to clap your hands against Beca's.

You turn to her.

She winks.

You sing...

... and all too quickly, it's over. Just like that, before you could even properly process the fact that you were on stage, singing for the last time. It was impossible to hold onto that fact _and_ sing and dance at the same time, so you had it back behind the movements which were automatic to you now - but now it's all you can think about. Then for a moment, you're pretty sure you blacked out and started hallucinating. All you can do is gape at Beca, because they've just called your names and announced that the Barden Bellas have won the World championships.

You've won.

And now what?

Staring out over the endless sea of heads in the crowd, all in the same moment you feel elation, relief and sadness crash over you. It's almost certainly the last time you'll ever stand here - with these girls, singing these songs. Feeling that rush after a win, where your heartbeat is thrumming in your fingertips and adrenaline is making your head swirl. It's exhilarating. It's amazing. It's -

\- really hard to concentrate on the fact that you've won through your tears. Later, you don't even remember the walk backstage. But you remember the cheers and the impromptu group hug that occurs when Stacie and Lilly throw their arms around you and Emily gets trapped in the middle. Finally Emily lets loose the tears she's been holding back, and just like Cynthia Rose said, it sets everyone else off.

You're all sweaty, crying, cheering. Amy's hair is sticking up. Ashley and Jessica are crying over each other. Lilly is practically strangling the life out of Flo as she hugs her. Aubrey has pulled off her Bella's neckerchief and is using it to try and mop up her face.

And Beca. Somewhere in the hubbub Beca slips her sweaty hand into yours and holds on for dear life.

'I love you guys,' Beca half sobs into her sleeve. She laughs brokenly when you plant a kiss on her cheek; she's shaking. 'Oh, _God -_ I'm gonna miss all of you.'

It's the first time you've seen her cry over this and it tears at you. Standing surrounded by the best friends you've ever had - and may ever have, for that matter - you feel so full and yet empty at the same time. So hopeful about what you're moving onto, but at the same time, so sad knowing what you're letting go too.

You're all sweaty, crying, cheering. Messes in all senses of the word. But they're _your_ messes, and you don't ever want to let them go. You've been avoiding having to confront this exact feeling for some long - knowing it was coming and accepting that it would is nowhere near the same as actually experiencing it.

The old Bellas, bar Aubrey, are smiling sadly in your direction. They know how it feels. They've been part of this Bellas family too and known what it's like to finally have to let go. Somehow, beneath all the sadness, it's comforting knowing they all feel the same way. It's not just you anymore, alone and worried about where you're going to end up. You've reached the end of this journey together, and you'll start a new one together. Whatever happens, you know they'll be there too. Maybe it doesn't matter where you're going next anyway, as long as Beca - and they - are there with you, holding your hand and cracking dumb jokes. Supporting you, matching on every note and harmony.

But what if they don't? What if you all lose contact and just end up one of those people who only keep in contact via Facebook? You're already worried, even while you're still holding each other. You won't know for sure until you get there, and by then it might be too late.

Still, you trust them. They got you this far; you trust them to keep stumbling on with you into the darkness and to not let you fall. They're _your_ flashlight, to quote Emily's song, the one that's brought you this win, and got you all to this point. You're so proud - you couldn't have picked someone better to lead the Bellas after you and Beca. You know, with her at the helm, the group will never truly fade away.

And with friends like these, you're sure that's an impossibility anyway.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't expect this to turn into some massive fic about growing up and graduating... It was meant to be a one-shot about jealousy. Ha! Oops. I hope I managed to get across that weird mix of hopefulness and sadness you get when leaving a place or moving on from a momentous thing that was built up. That's how I feel right now, about many parts of my life.**

 **I'm so sorry about the wait between chapters. But in a way I'm glad there was a wait as it meant I had things to do and people to spend time with that were more important ;) I haven't cared much about shipping for a while - fanfic has always been an escape and a way of dealing with personal stuff going on my life, but now I'm doing better it's difficult to find stuff I feel like writing. So this may well be my final long fanfic, at least for PP. And I'd like to get back into doing original stuff. But never say never, right? In any case, I didn't want this hanging over me anymore in 2016.**

 **Thanks for sticking around til the end guys. I really hope you enjoyed this fic, the epilogue, and the extensive waiting didn't put you off too much.**

 **Happy New Year, kids.**


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